


One Week a Month, or: Asric and Jadaar Go to the Darkmoon Faire

by silverr



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood Elves, Bromance, Cameos, Con Artists, Darkmoon Faire, Disguise, Draenei, Dwarves, F/M, Gnomes, Goblins, Humor, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Male Friendship, Mystery, Poison, Pre-Slash, Trolls, Worgen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverr/pseuds/silverr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asric and Jadaar convince Silas Darkmoon to hire them, but between Asric's troublesome antics and a mysterious disappearance Jadaar soon has his big blue hands full. ** Co-starring Griftah and various other Darkmoon Faire denizens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which They Arrive in Search of Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsunealyc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunealyc/gifts).



> When I first saw them at the new Darkmoon Faire - they appear from time to time next to Aimee's stall - I was quite disappointed that there was no dialogue to go with their animated emote gestures. 
> 
> Clearly, this needed to be remedied.

.

"It's dreary. Dank, even." Asric folded his arms and looked around with disdain.

"Through the portal less than a second, and already you've complained. A new record." Jadaar started down the path. Though he didn't intend to admit it to Asric, between the crushed black stone underfoot and the thorny, gnarled woods crowding close, he too was finding this first glimpse of the Darkmoon Faire quite forbidding.

"These blinking arrows … ridiculously eager." Asric's head snapped up at a rumble of thunder from the storm clouds darkening the afternoon sky. "Jadaar! You said the weather here would be pleasant!"

"It's warmer than Northrend, isn't it?" Jadaar glanced at the signs as he passed, _Ignore the Darkened, Eerie Woods_ and _Ignore the Eyes that Blink and Stare._ "You said you disliked the cold. And there has been very little work to be found at the Tournament for some time now."

"Well, true, but – "

"I was promised that we would find suitable itinerant employment here, as the Faire management is eager to utilize our talents."

"So they need a clown?" Asric snickered. He was now almost jogging to keep up with the draenei's long-legged trot.

Jadaar shrugged. "Yes, yes, insult me all you want. I could have made an unkind comment about the need for thieving drunkards – "

Asric began to puff up, but then the baleful yellow roaming eyeball over the Faire's entrance swiveled to watch them approach. "So this is it? Seems small."

"It's at least twice as large as what they used to set up before," Jadaar said.

A Forsaken in a colorful tent greeted them as they passed under the arch. "Welcome to the Faire!"

"We're here about a job?"

She nodded. "Check in with Silas and Burth."

"How do we – ?"

"Big ogre. Little gnome. Can't miss 'em."

"It's quite … aromatic," Asric said as they moved down the midway. He wrinkled his nose, then swore in Thalassian as he was almost tripped by a gaggle of children.

"No worse than the Tournament."

" _Far_ worse."

Looking wistfully at the large number of stalls that still had their awnings down, Jadaar said, "I do hope there's a drink vendor open."

"And you called me the drunkard?"

Jadaar lifted his head and said loftily, "I am thirsty from the journey here. The prices the shipboard concessionaire was charging were outrageous." He added. "And I did not call _you_ a drunkard. I said I could have made an unkind comment about drunkards. In general."

Asric harumphed. "Will we really make enough here in a week to live off for the rest of the month?"

"That's what they told me," Jadaar replied.

"Who?"

"An … informed source." Jadaar's tone of voice made it clear the subject was off-limits.

"I hope so," Asric said. "After all, I have a standard of living to maintain. I'm accustomed to certain comforts." He pointed at a blue-tattooed ogre and gnome in a black suit walking toward them. "Those two look like Silas and Burth."

"Comforts? Yes, well, I'm sure you will find a soft, warm place to sleep," Jadaar said as a flyer fluttered across the ground and came to rest against his hoof, "as well as some debauched person to share your bed." He stooped to pick it and began to crumple it, to toss it away, but something caught his eye and he began to read.

"As long as they're not blue," Asric muttered, "and don't hog the only blanket."

"Unacceptable!" Jadaar roared.

Asric was taken aback. "I didn't mean – "

"You'll never believe," Jadaar interrupted, shaking the paper in a fury, "who's selling Infallible Tikbalangs down by the dock!"

.

.

.

.

.

(02) 6 Mar 2012

  



	2. In Which They Are Hired

__

_._

 

"Maybe you should – " Asric started to say.

"Sir? Sir? Are you the manager of this Faire?" Jadaar demanded as he stomped toward the ogre and the gnome.

Burth – who held an extremely large, extremely shiny two-headed axe – stepped protectively in front of Silas. "Gotta go through me to get to the boss," he said, poking the head of his axe against Jadaar's chest.

"It's all right Burth," Silas piped up. "My, you're a tall one!"

"Ah … " Jadaar seemed stymied how to deliver his indignation to the top of Silas' hat, and started to go down on one knee.

"Oh, none of that," Silas said, and snapped his fingers. Burth lifted him up, then held his forearm level, making a ledge for Silas to stand on. "That's better! Face to face! Now, how can I help you?"

Jadaar held up the flyer. "This advertisement – is it from a troll named Griftah? If so, you should know that he is a swindler! A seller of trinkets and trickery!"

"Really?" Silas seemed shocked. "How do you know this?"

Asric cut in. "We've had dealings with him before."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He previously operated out of Shattrath's Lower City district – "

"Oh yes, Terokkar Forest! We used to pitch in Outland, back when Shadowmoon and Netherstorm were the hotspots for adventurers." Silas adjusted the brim of his hat. "You came all the way from Outland to inform me of this? That's very … proactive."

"No," Jadaar said, "we came looking for employment."

"What kind of work were you looking to do?"

"I have a background in peacekeeping – " Jadaar began.

" – and _I'm_ an investigator," Asric cut in. "With extensive knowledge of magical items."

Silas shrugged, "We don't have need for an investigator here. But … " He _hmmd_ thoughtfully and contemplated Jadaar. "Peacekeeper, eh? What do you think, Burth? Security?"

"I have a commendation from the Stormwind Guard. Signed by King Varian himself!" Jadaar said, taking out the parchment to show to Silas.

"It's signed by Wrynn's assistant, not the king," Asric muttered, then asked, "Security? Would that be like – guarding the take?"

 _"I_ do that," Burth growled. _"I_ guard money. No one else."

"I was thinking more … police force," Silas said. "So, Mister Jadaar …. think you'd be interested in keeping the peace here?"

"What sort of crime do you have?" Jadaar asked. He elbowed Asric, who was ogling a purple-haired female troll who had stopped nearby to sweep the packed earth of the midway.

"Mostly petty squabbles and minor incidents," Silas said with a wave of his hand. "Fairegoers who've had too much to drink and forgotten how to use the outhouses. Sore losers from the pit matches. Pranksters defacing property. Show-offs annoying the animals. And, er … domestic unrest from time to time."

"I can do that," Jadaar said firmly. He saw from the corner of his eye that the troll was now sliding her hands up and down her broom handle in a rather suggestive manner. He kicked the mesmerized Asric discreetly.

"You also might be asked to work special events," Silas said. "Events pay double the base rate, but takes extra vigilance. And there's a slight risk of violence."

"I can handle myself."

Silas laughed. "Glad to hear it. I love working with goats – you're all so dependable!"

"I'm dependable too," Asric said, paying attention now that the saucy troll had moved on. "I can be violent. And I can go undercover to catch pickpockets – I'm familiar with the ways of petty thieves!"

Burth snorted.

"Well," Silas shrugged, "you have to understand. I have a very limited number of open positions. Most of the people here have been with me for years."

"I suppose they have – _seniority_ ," Asric said, making it sound criminal.

"More than that," Silas replied, "The Faire is their home, their family – Sometimes literally." He looked from Jadaar to Asric and back again. "Well, I'll see what I can do. Burth, is there anything for Mister Jadaar's friend?"

"Pick up trash," Burth said with relish. "Clean outhouses." At Asric's horrified expression he continued, "Rat patrol – nah, probably he no like that either."

"Why? What it it?" Asric asked. "Shooting at vermin? I can do that!"

"No," Burth said. "Set and empty traps."

"That doesn't sound too bad." Asric looked at Jadaar for confirmation.

"Set up easy. Empty not so easy." Burth grinned. "Takes work to scrape rat pieces out."

Asric looked faintly green. _"Pieces?"_

"Is there anything else open?" Silas asked.

"Help Ellie with Jumbo cleanup." Burth chuckled evilly. "Maybe give him Faire Kare."

"What's that?" Asric demanded.

"We have quite a few young ones in the Darkmoon family," Silas said. "Faire Kare is – keeping them occupied so that they stay out of harm's way."

" _Babysitting?"_ Asric shuddered. "No, no, I – no."

"Oh!" Silas jumped excitedly, and would have fallen had Burth not grabbed his belt. "What about that – VIP situation?"

Burth lifted his arm in order to whisper to Silas.

"My thoughts exactly!" Silas nodded at Burth, then said to Jadaar and Asric, "VIP is a special assignment. Taking extra-premium care of a Very Important Personage who will need to be guarded 'round the clock – and I do mean waking and sleeping. You two could share the job by taking shifts, if you want, though you'd have to split the pay."

"We'll do it!" Asric said.

Jadaar looked doubtful. "Who is it? The King of Stormwind? The High Priestess of Elune?"

"The Regent of Silvermoon? Or Aethas Sunreaver?" Asric asked eagerly.

"Oh someone _much_ more important to the success of my Faire than any of those people," Silas said with a handwave. "Now, this VIP isn't here yet, but you can use the time until then to become familiar with the Fairegrounds. Let's get you set up with Selina, and then you can go introduce yourself to everyone."

.

Selina turned out to be the Forsaken woman who had greeted them at the entrance to the Faire, and after Silas had introduced Asric and Jadaar as the Faire's newest employees she handed them each a colorful but slightly tattered tabard. "I'm always behind on the mending!" she said cheerfully, then waggled her finger at Jadaar. "And take your chest armor off first, Sir, please! Your bare skin will be much kinder to my silk babies than your chain mail. Not to mention it gives us ladies something to look at." She winked.

Asric snorted.

"Keep tabard on at all times," Burth said. _"And_ pants," he added darkly to Asric.

"What? Me?"

"The tabard will let you eat and drink at no charge," Silas said. "Within reason, of course."

"Of course. Thank you for giving us this opportunity, Mister Darkmoon, " Jadaar said with a small bow as Silas and Burth left.

"Oh, stop ass-kissing," Asric said a moment later as they left Selina's tent. "You're even less tolerable when you grovel."

Jadaar ignored this. "Let's each take half," he said, "and meet up at the dock in an hour to compare notes. Keep an eye out for anything that looks like a security risk. You can take this side, I'll do the right half."

Asric made a face. "The right side has far fewer – "

"Fine, _you_ take the right and I'll take the left."

.

An hour or so later Jadaar sat, unaccountably happy, at the edge of the dock. The Faire looked as though it would be a much more enjoyable experience than he had expected. After first slipping behind the barrier to look into the East pavilion, which – based on the half-dozen large metal tubs and containers of soap stacked inside – looked to be the Faire's laundry, he had then found himself agreeing with a small girl at the sandbox that the "dragon bone" her playmate had found was indeed from an elekk. From there he had gone on to discuss the crash of the Exodar with a Professor Paleo, and then discovered that a familiar face, Aimee the baker _extraordinaire_ from Dalaran, was running the sweets stall. Findlay Coolshot had explained the tonk game – all the while keeping a steadying hand on an extremely uncoordinated fellow dwarf. Sylannia and Stamp Thunderhorn in the southern picnic area had given him his first taste of free Faire food, and Jadaar found the cheap beer and roasted drumstick exceptionally tasty. At Stamp's suggestion Jadaar had then worked his way back between the corral and the south pavilion to introduce himself to Chronos, who was in charge of a small area – which, surprisingly, was not fenced off from the surrounding forest – where both carnies and equipment were repaired out of sight of the public. After that Jadaar circled around to Soothsayer Sayge, talked to Jessica Rogers of the ring toss (she had apparently inherited the drunken dwarf from Findley) and then chatted a while with Yebb Neblegear about the superiority of horses over elekks as mounts. He'd spent the last part of the hour admiring the animals in the zoo area, introducing himself to Breanni and Ellie Goodup, and dodging a penguin that apparently found his knees a delicacy. "Aw, he likes you!" Breanni had giggled, and Jadaar had joked that if this was affection he hoped that the penguin wouldn't fall in love with him.

And now here he was, sitting on the dock next to the fishermen, watching Fairegoers fly through the air and splash into a ring of rope floating on the water.

The things some people did for relaxation.

Sitting on the dock, though, was very pleasant. The soft slosh of the waves, the mild breeze that ensured he was upwind of the zoo, the faint sounds of laughter and music in the distance … it was restful.

So restful that he lost track of time until Ellie – who took her animals out for walking exercise every quarter hour – said, "You lost, hon?"

"No, I'm … waiting for someone," Jadaar said.

"Maybe they're lost?" Ellie said, then continued on with her lion.

"Maybe, "Jadaar said. He got up from the dock with a sigh and went back to the entrance of the Faire, checking to see who on the right half had seen Asric. Most were too busy setting up their game stalls to remember – only the goblin token vendor was sure she hadn't, saying, "A ginger? Ooooh, I'd've remembered that!" The West Pavilion was empty, the fire jugglers just shrugged, the strong woman shook her head, and Jadaar almost found himself questioning Kolin the dancing bear when Boomie Sparks, the fireworks vendor, motioned to him.

"What you lookin' for, bud?" the goblin asked.

"I seem to have lost my friend, " Jadaar said. "We were just hired. We split up to look around the Faire grounds, and now I can't find him. He's a blood elf, reddish hair – ."

"Ah ha," Boomie said. "Yeah, he's 'seeing the sights' all right. Went back toward the crapshacks about an hour ago with Trix." He pointed.

"Thank you!" Jadaar said, hurrying around the fireworks display and past the crates of medical supplies – he was surprised to see a second clinic area, was working the Faire really so dangerous? – and past some wagons toward the row of outhouses.

As he approached the outhouses he heard a voice – Asric's – in great distress, pleading, "Stop! You're killing me!"

Jadaar ran around the corner. Past a tall stockpile of medical supplies, ammo, and foodstuffs was an open wagon. In the wagon were Asric and the purple-haired troll who had been sweeping near them earlier. Both Asric and the troll were shirtless. Asric was tied spreadeagled in the wagon. The troll was sitting on him, leaning forward to dangle her –

"Ah-haha, Jadaar, there you are," Asric said breathlessly. "I was wondering where you went."

.

Once Trix had left – she'd taken her time untying Asric, even with Jadaar's blue-faced help, and then planted a final kiss on the whimpering elf before donning her tabard – Jadaar gripped the side of the wagon to stop from throttling Asric.

"Two hours," he said, "We have not been here even two hours, and already you are …. _not performing your duties_!"

"Oh, I'd have performed," Asric smirked, "if that minx – "

"What were you thinking? We have been hired by Darkmoon to provide security! He has entrusted us with the care of a valued guest! And you, you – " Jadaar was out of words.

"It doesn't matter," Asric said. "Trix told me who the VIP is, and you're not going to like it."

.

.

.

(01) 8 March 2012


	3. In Which They Settle In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas makes his pitch, Jadaar becomes annoyed by Asric's new friend, and secret locations and not-so-secret crushes are revealed.

.

For the second time that day Jadaar charged toward Silas Darkmoon, flyer in hand. _"This?_ " he demanded. "This is the Important Person we are to protect? This … this …"

"Purveyor of amazing amulets?" Asric finished, reading from the flyer.

"Why yes, " Silas said. "It's ideal! As his bodyguard you'll be able to monitor his every move!"

"But why do you allow … " Jadaar started to demand, so hotly that Burth bared his teeth.

"He provides a service," Silas said.

"What kind of service?"

"An exchange service," Silas said. "For magical items."

"Does he buy or sell these items?"

"He does both, I believe."

"So," Asric cut in, "he's a fence."

"Well," Silas stroked his chin. "I wouldn't go _that_ far. I am assured that his merchandise is acquired legitimately. He buys items that the current owners are no longer interested in possessing, and sells them to new owners. From what I can tell it's been an entirely legal service. For the convenience of Faire patrons." Silas said. His jolliness was fading. "He's contractually obligated to pay me 15% of his income. Tell you what – you collect that for me –"

"But, _Silas!_ " Burth protested. "That's _my_ job!"

"Now now, these gentlemen are completely trustworthy." Silas patted Burth's enormous calf. "And you have enough on your plate as it is." He looked back up at Jadaar. "Now, I've got a lot to do, so let's just finalize the details so there's no confusion. And then we won't have to talk about it again. Number one: monitor Griftah's sales – discreetly, of course. Make sure he keeps everything legal and above board. Number two: collect my commission from him after every transaction. And number three: keep half a percent of what you collect as your wages."

"Half a percent!" Asric was outraged. "That's – "

"The more he sells, the more you'll make," Silas said smoothly. "Really, we all benefit – "

" – some more than others," Asric muttered.

" – Griftah gets protection," Silas continued, unfazed, "I get my fee, you get wages immediately without having to wait until the end of Faire week, and Burth has a little less bookkeeping to do."

"Burth hates taxes and amortization more than Scourge," Burth said wearily.

While Asric looked up at the sky and did math on his fingers, Silas said to Burth, "Let's give them a little advance. Tide them over til their troll gets here."

As Burth reluctantly handed a few coins to Jadaar, Silas said cheerfully, "So, welcome to the family! Settle in, and have a great week at the Faire!"

.

"It might not be too bad," Asric said. "Assuming there's someplace decent to sleep."

"Ellie said that all the tents are spoken for, but that there's plenty of space under the bleachers in the arena." Jadaar glanced at the entrance to Blastenheimer's cannon, where the inebriated dwarf he'd seen earlier near the tonk game had apparently wandered too close to the fire jugglers and was now standing befuddled as people swatted at his smoking beard.

"I slept under bleachers at the Tournament!" Asric said. "I'm not doing that again. Always half frozen."

"The bleachers here are out of the wind and weather. And Northrend was much colder to begin with."

"You keep saying that." Asric said. "But it's also noisier and smellier here."

"Return to Northrend then," Jadaar said stiffly. "In fact, here is fare." He held out the coins he'd received from Burth. "Go."

"You always get so mad," Asric said, turning his nose up. "It's ridiculous." He was only half-looking at Jadaar, as something further down the midway had caught his attention.

"I have tired of your complaints."

"Well, I'm tired of being criticized," Asric said. He walked past Jadaar toward the dock.

"Fine!" Jadaar turned away.

"I'm ... _finer!_ " Asric tossed back. "Find someone else to look down on for a change, Peacekeeper!"

Just then the dwarf erupted screaming from the cannon, his beard on fire.

.

After Asric left Jadaar wandered around. The Faire was now fully set up, and the late afternoon sun shone on a midway packed with Azerothians eating, drinking, talking, laughing, holding hands, gawping at the performers, and shaking their fists in triumph at the games.

And then there was the figure in black armor, motionless with fury, pointing a gun into one of the stalls.

Jadaar began to run, but slowed as he realized that it was only the drunken death knight he'd seen earlier at the tonks, now taking part in Rinling's shooting game. After squeezing off several wildly inaccurate shots the dwarf threw the gun at the target in disgust.

"Hey mister." There was a tug at Jadaar's hand. "Did you see the cannon?"

Jadaar looked down. Four small boys – a human, an orc, a draenei, and a blood elf – were staring at him. "Yes, I saw the cannon."

"What do you think would happen if you got shot out of the cannon and hit a bird?" the blood elf boy asked.

Although the lad appeared to be entirely serious, Jadaar had been around Asric long enough to develop an ear for suppressed _sin'dorei_ mischief and mockery. He was framing an answer when the four boys laughed and ran away.

Brats. He was surrounded by brats.

.

With nothing better to do until Griftah arrived Jadaar decided to keep an eye on the dwarf death knight. The stout white-bearded figure was now standing by the Whack-a-Mole booth while Mola patiently explained that using an army of ghouls to whack was not allowed.

The dwarf chewed thoughtfully on a strand of beard as he listened, then threw up his arms. "Well then, woman, there's nothing left for me ta do but _drink_ , now is there?" He marched off.

Jadaar followed. "Excuse me, sir. Might I make a suggestion?"

"Eh? What's that?" Close up, the dwarf's eyes were even eerier than the blood elf felglow.

"Perhaps if you took a short break," Jadaar suggested, "closed your eyes for a few moments, your gaming prowess would return in full force?"

"Hm. Could be. Where I kin catch a kip?"

"I believe," Jadaar said, "there are some excellent locations under the bleachers in the arena."

.

After getting the dwarf settled Jadaar looked around for Silas. He wanted to ask where Griftah was intending to set up, as that seemed the best place to wait. He walked slowly up and down the midway, scanning the crowds, but found himself checking too often if any of the Darkmoon tabards that went by had an auburn head. Just past the fireworks stall he heard odd sounds behind the pavilion tent … coming from about the same location that the wagon with the damned elf and the troll had been.

He would have kept going, but then there was a loud clatter, as of crates falling to the ground and breaking, and so he hurried to investigate - and found Asric draped shirtless and face-down over a stack of crates. A male human stood behind him, his hands on Asric's back, rocking back and for –

Jadaar clapped his hand over his eyes and turned to run out.

"Hey! Come back!" the human called. "Are you Asric's friend the peacekeeper?"

Jadaar peeked between his fingers: as the human moved away from Asric he saw that not only did the human have his trousers on, they appeared to be … unopened.

"How you doin'? I'm Rodney. Can I call you Ja for short?"

 Jadaar put his hand down and stared at the human's hair, which was combed up and cut flat across the top, as if he'd been hung upside down and then subjected to a saw-blade. "No."

"Whoa, whoa," Rodney said. "Looks like Miresha has competition." He turned to Asric – who was now propped on his elbows, smirking – and said in an all-too-familiar way. "I'm gonna hit the beach. See ya later."

"Of course," Asric said with a smile.

The human clapped Jadaar's shoulder as he ran past.

"Who _was_ that person?" Jadaar said as soon as Rodney was out of earshot. "And who or what is Miresha?"

Asric pushed himself up from the crates, and Jadaar couldn't stop himself from checking that the elf's leggings were present and undisturbed as well. "I met him when I helped the crew that's repairing the dock," Asric said as he shook out his tabard and pulled it over his head. "We started talking. When we were done he offered to re-align my back or adjust my energy flow or something. Anyhow, he needed a firm surface to do it, so we came back here."

"Obviously."

"He also," Asric said, "offered to share his prime sleeping space with us, which is a covered wagon in the quieter half of the Faire. Bedding provided."

 _Yes, of course there was bedding involved._ "How tastefully put."

"I thought you'd be pleased for once." Asric looked sulky. "You'll have the bed all to yourself from dawn to early evening."

Jadaar was astounded at the elf's casualness. "And you? You will now spend the nights there with that ... human scrubbing-brush?" He shook his head. "And before him you were dallying with that troll woman! If you change lovers every hour you'll run out long before the week is over."

"Since when is it your business if and how much and with what I dally?" Asric asked, flaring up. "Quite a pedestal of moral superiority you've got there, Peacekeeper. Ignoring that I do what I have to do so that _you_ won't have to sleep under the bleachers."

Jadaar laughed. " _Have to do?_ It's amusing, how you pretend to act from altruism."

"So now you're calling me a liar?"

Jadaar shrugged. "After so many years, I know you well enough. You are what you are."

"And that is?"

"An amoral narcissist. Hardly driven by noble motives."

"And you're a miserable prig," Asric shot back. "I haven't even met her yet, but I'm certain you out-snob Miresha by a factor of ten." He brushed past Jadaar toward the midway.

"Where are you going?" Jadaar asked, surprised that Asric seemed so angry.

There was no reply: the elf's tabard stormed away, across the midway, between Sayge's path and a pavilion tent and then out of sight.

A crackling hum and a blare of sound to Jadaar's right signaled the start of the hourly concert. As people hurried past him to their seats it underscored to Jadaar how out of place he was here. _Alone in a crowd,_ as the humans liked to say, and while it was true that being wandering exiles, eternal outsiders, was part of his people's heritage, he knew that what he felt now was beyond that. He had become so detached, so alienated, that he was now only an observer of life, not a participant.

How had that happened? He still remembered his confessor shocking him many years ago with the comment that perhaps Jadaar's tenuous connections – to people, to places – were the result of unconscious choice, that perhaps Jadaar's spirit had been so shattered by losing what he cherished most on Draenor that ever since he had tried to bulwark further losses by forging only superficial bonds to people and places of little value. Jadaar had long since accepted this insight as a valid assessment of his failings, as it explained both his restlessness and his reluctance to enter a domestic arrangement with any of the perfectly acceptable draenei who had expressed an interest in him.

What it did _not_ explain was the unpleasant sinking sensation in his chest at the thought that his association with the troublesome elf might be at an end. Which was odd, because that should have been a relief. Asric was nothing special, and, aside from the occasional enjoyable banter, rarely pleasant company – but then that was true of almost every blood elf. Really, Asric was little more than an acquaintance, a traveling companion, and as it clear he didn't consider Jadaar a friend it was in every way an ideal connection for severing.

It should have been, at any rate.

.

Behind the pavilion and into the back areas of the Faire … and no idea where Asric might have gone from there. The ground was dry packed earth, the black trees and sterile gritty soil of the woods tolerated no delicate underbrush, and as there was no outer fence or barrier of any kind, Jadaar had no idea which way Asric had gone.

It was too bad, Jadaar thought, that the elf wasn't bleeding. It would have made him easier to follow.

Jadaar was walking and thinking when a gravelly voice startled him. "Can I help you?"

Chronos, the Faire's chief medic.

"I'm looking for someone," Jadaar said, "Elf. Shoulder length reddish-brown hair. Darkmoon tabard. Came through here 10 minutes or so ago?"

Chronos lifted his arm, pointed a bony finger due east, and said. "Red earth. Batcave. Keep your tabard on or you won't get in."

Puzzled, Jadaar headed through the woods, and after a few moments he saw an area of ground ahead that did look quite red compared to the black volcanic soil. As he got closer to it he thought he caught, just barely within the threshold of hearing, faint sounds under the waves as of far-off laughter and conversation, but every time he stopped to listen more carefully it vanished.

He went to the cliff's edge and looked down, but below him were only rocks. Off to his right was a small beach that adjoined the east end of the dock. No sign of a "batcave."

He turned around, looking closely at the red earth, and though it was most likely just a trick of light and shadow it seemed that there was a magical symbol of some sort in the middle of the area.

He started to walk toward it, but ran into an invisible _something_ , as if the air had thickened to the consistency of water. Before he could panic or stop there was a strong hand pulling him forward, and suddenly he was on a beach. All around him were people, laughing and talking, sitting on blankets around small cookfires.

"First time bad," an orc in a Darkmoon tabard – the one who had pulled him through, and still held his hand – was saying to him in heavily-accented Common. "Second time easy."

"What is this?" Jadaar asked. "How did I get here?"

"Phasing spell," the orc said, letting go of Jadaar's hand to tap his chest. "Magic in tabard and amulet. Amulets by cave."

Jadaar looked around and yes, almost everyone was wearing the tabard: the few that weren't – like the squealing children playing in the shallows – wore large green-and-purple medallions.

"Tourists no see," the orc said. "Silas people only." He pointed to a row of cook-fires at the south end of the beach. "Eat fish."

"Thank you," Jadaar said, and, though it seemed strange, he bowed slightly. The orc reciprocated with a big-tusked grin.

Jadaar noticed two carnies filling buckets with sea water. One of them was was Rodney.

"Hey, Jaa – daar!" The human hefted two sloshing buckets and ran up to Jadaar. "C'mon, you're just in time! After this the ladies take the cave over for an hour."

"In time for _what_?" Jadaar muttered as he followed Rodney to the cave.

At the back was a large sunken firepit, heating a huge black cauldron. Flanking the fire were two large tin washtubs. The washtub on the right was half-full of steaming water and a night elf wearing only a medallion. He stood as Jadaar and Rodney entered and began to towel himself dry.

 _Bath-cave,_ Jadaar told himself. _Chronos was saying bath-cave, not_ bat _cave._

The washtub on the left contained a certain auburn-haired brat, also wearing only a medallion.

"Ironman!" The naked night elf jovially punched Rodney on the arm.

"Ren, my man, getting _good_ at the juggle," Rodney said as he emptied his buckets into the cauldron. "You only burned yourself, what, twice today?"

"Three times, but that's still my best day yet," the night elf said, pulling on his leggings.

"Give me a hand?" Asric asked, holding up a dripping sea-sponge.

Jadaar, who felt out of place amidst all the activity – and somewhat scandalized by the casual nudity – thought for a moment Asric was asking him, and hesitated, but then Rodney said, "Sure thing."

The night elf put on his tabard, and only then fished his medallion out from under his tabard. He hung it on a hook outside the cave on his way out.

"Ironman?" Jadaar asked, annoyed by Asric's knowing smirk.

"One of his many nicknames." Asric leaned forward, resting his arms on the edge of the tub, a position which allowed Rodney to wash much further down his backside than was necessary. "Another is _Iron Rod._ "

Jadaar had had it with the elf's need to flaunt every detail of his debauched personal life, and was turning to go when a garishly-dressed – and familiar – figure blocked the cave entrance.

" _Griftah'jin!_ " Rodney was beaming.

"Hoosh, I told ya, don't be calling me that," Griftah said. "Leastways not here, wit' all da beasts be listenin'." He winked. "So what you be doin' here?" he asked Jadaar.

"Silas hired us as your bodyguards," Asric said. Rodney had put down the sponge and was now massaging Asric's lower back with intense concentration.

"Oh, look and see, da rooster be here too!" Griftah said, laughing. "I shoulda known. Ya still be peckin' up at de clouds, elf?"

Asric glanced over at Jadaar, but as soon as their eyes met Asric made a point of looking away. It was very childish.

"And what is all dis, now?" a female voice demanded.

Trix, Ellie Goodnup, a Tauren, and several blood elf and human women carrying buckets stood behind Griftah. "You lazy men be soakin' too long, cuttin' into our bathtime!" Trix said.

"It's incredibly _rude_ ," said a brown-haired blood elf.

"That's Miresha," Rodney told Asric in a stage whisper. "She's the Faire's star fire juggler."

The Tauren said shyly, "Hello Rodney."

"Oh, heya, Clover," Rodney said. He looked down at the cave floor.

Trix elbowed past Griftah and carried her buckets to the cauldron, glancing into Asric's tub as she passed. "Dat mus' be some cold _cold_ water," she said, cackling. "But den ya boy Rod, him can still write a long poem while holdin' a short pencil, I be thinkin'."

.

.

Asric hunched over and scowled as the rest of the women passed, giggling.

"Best get ya movin'," Trix commanded. "We comin' back when water be boilin'. And we be tossin' out any jellyfish lef' behind."

Griftah said fervently, "I brought ya some soap on rope, mah girl. Special made."

Trix shook her head. "Las' batch ya make smell it up like shark bait in dis place," she said, holding her head high. "Ya mus' be reading ya ol' granny's scratches wrong, mon."

Then she sauntered out, followed by the others.

"Ten minutes," Miresha told the men sternly. "Not a _second_ more."

"Yes, ma'am," Rodney reassured her. "We'll be gone before you even know we were here."

Miresha exhaled in exasperation, then left.

"Ah, my girl Trix, I _know_ she happy to see me," Griftah said, clasping his hands and sounding unexpectedly smitten. "I da only man at the Faire she wanna wine up on."

Asric snorted and got out of the tub, turning his back to Griftah as he dried off.

"She was in the wagon with Asric earlier," Rodney said, apparently trying to be helpful.

Griftah laughed. "Oh, ya a funny one."

"It's true!" Rodney said, then appealed to Jadaar. "You saw them, right? Tell him!"

Jadaar shrugged.

Griftah worked his jaw. "Well, my girl, she ... she a goddess. She ain't no _serious_ givin' de glam to no skinny elf."

"Your girl," Asric murmured as he got dressed. "Hm. I see. So is she your wife or your girlfriend?"

Griftah stood tall and rolled his shoulders. "I too much troll for her."

"I thought so." Asric tossed his towel on the drying rack. "She's not even _remotely_ your girl."

"I look over dem who be courtin' her," Griftah said. "Ya want, I can put the good word, give ya some exaggerate. Tell her you hung like a gronn, say what she was seein' it all be a trick of da water!"

"I don't need exaggeration," Asric said, then turned to Jadaar. "He's all yours. I'll take over at dawn." Ignoring Griftah, he started to follow Rodney out of the cave.

"And you're going off to – " Jadaar asked.

Asric turned, his eyes narrowed.

" – sleep well?" Jadaar finished.

"I intend to."

Griftah watched Asric leave, then looked sideways at Jadaar. "So, _that's_ how it be?" he asked. "Scratchin' de corn, but still peckin' de sky – ya no see it?" At Jadaar's frown he nodded slowly. "Well, when eye no see, heart no leap." He stretched. "Best we go from here and eat roast fish 'fore the women get vexed."

.

.

.

(04) 7 April 2012

_._


	4. In Which Jadaar is Both Enlightened and Clueless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jadaar kicks back, discovers he might have been wrong about Griftah, and is confounded by Asric once again.

.

.

It was, all in all, one of the pleasantest evenings he'd spent. Which was odd, because looked at objectively, he should have been miserable, His finances were so precarious that he'd been reduced to babysitting a criminal, his friendship – such as it was – with Asric was deteriorating by the hour, and he was surrounded by complete strangers ... but somehow none of this mattered so much at the moment. As he sat on a log with Griftah eating delicious roast fish, watching half a dozen children splash in the shallow water, feeling the mild twilight breezes, he was reminded of the happier moments aboard the Exodar. Back then, in the days following an escape from the Legion, everyone tended to congregate in the common areas in gratitude and celebration, filling the ship with the movement and sound from dozens of communal clusters, warm, welcoming places to talk, laugh, sing, even flirt a little ….

"You so serious," Griftah said. "Always watchin' and weighin'. Not like dat elf. He be like a chicken wi' his foot stuck in de roof. Always flappin' and makin' noise. Can't understand how you be friends," Griftah said with a sigh.

Jadaar was puzzled. Where, exactly, was the troll going with this?

"You stick together so long, don' make no sense." Griftah smacked his lips, then began to pick his teeth with a fish bone. "Both us people should be hatin' dem scrawny chickenboys for killin' so many of our kin."

Ah. Griftah was looking to stir up trouble, was he? Trying to invent a wedge to drive between himself and Asric? Well, it wasn't going to work.

Jadaar was just about to tell Griftah so when Burth blew a small trumpet, calling attention to the boulder where Silas Darkmoon stood.

Silas held a torch in one hand and a stein in the other. "To the Faire!" he shouted, then drank.

"To the Faire!" came the response, with many glasses and bottles raised.

"I'll keep this brief," Silas said, handing his empty stein to Burth as the crowd settled down. "We've all been hearing things about what's going on ... out there." He waved one hand expansively. "Things heating up. Tensions rising." He paused until the crowd was completely silent. "Preparations for war. It's disturbing news." He waited while a murmur of assent rippled over the carnies. "What does that mean for us? Well, the way I see it, now it's more important than _ever_ that, for one week a month, the Faire is a place where everyone can spend time in an _entirely_ different world." He paused, and then held out his hands. "But making the Faire that kind of place – that's up to _you_. What do you say? Can we do that?"

This was answered with enthusiastic cheers and fist pumping. Jadaar had to admire the gnome's ability to work a crowd.

"Now I know you all have things to do tonight – work, sleep ... _other_ pursuits." He smiled indulgently. "Or playing with what you've captured." Silas waited for the laughter and hooting to die down. "But first let's take a minute to recognize some special people." He turned toward the main cookfire, where a tauren, a human, and a worgen were still cooking for the latecomers. "Stamp, Steven, Tatia – thank you for once again providing such a delicious feast." As everyone applauded Silas continued, "I urge all of you with some spare time to help keep our cookpots full by going fishing or hunting in the countryside around the portals. Although," he said, waggling his finger like a schoolmarm, "make sure that you're _hunting_ , not _stealing_. And for the record – " he added loudly over the crowd's good-natured grumbling and humorous protests of outrage, " – and I'm not _just_ saying this because our new resident Peacekeeper Mister Jadaar is present – I'll remind you all that hunting on Goldshire farms does count as stealing."

Grinning, he then winked at Jadaar.

"Finally," Silas concluded, "I think we also all owe a round of applause to Griftah, Purveyor of Amazing Amulets, for working with Selina and the Professor to create this wonderful private beach for us to relax away from the tourists!"

Jadaar didn't have much experience reading troll expressions, but he took Griftah's sheepish smile and bowed head to mean that he was both pleased and embarrassed by the attention.

.

The meal and speech over, the crowd on the beach seemed to be settling down for a night of drinking and camaraderie.

Griftah slapped his knees and stood. 'Well, we best be going. Customers be waiting."

"At this hour?" Jadaar looked up at the cloudy night sky, faintly glowing with the light of at least one unseen moon.

"Ya. Plenty ask me can they come at night."

"More privacy for their questionable transactions?"

"Don' know about that," Griftah said, stretching. "S'pose some just don' like de sunshine." He pulled the Darkmoon medallion he was wearing up and over his head – and disappeared.

Jadaar, who had been wondering where the beach's exit portal was, quickly took off his tabard and found himself in the woods, not far from the invisible entrance portal.

Griftah applauded.

"That's – " Jadaar said, slightly breathless, " – amazing. Where is that beach, anyhow?"

"Ya, pretty slick, if I say so me own self," Griftah said with a chuckle. "It's dis same isle, but she's a sideways dimension, mon. Almos' me best work. _Almos'_."

They made their way through Chronos' area – Griftah informing Jadaar that this part of the Faire was called the East Back by Faire veterans – and down the midway toward a small clot of people near the boardwalk.

"No worries, Griftah be here now," the troll said to them when he came into earshot. "Now, who be first in line?"

.

A half and hour later Jadaar – who had borrowed a fishing pole and lures from Tatia in order to have an excuse to sit close enough to Griftah to eavesdrop – had learned quite a bit about the troll's customers and the exact nature of his various transactions. It was, ironically, knowledge that would have been invaluable back in Shattrath, and would have led him to conduct his initial fraud investigation much differently. It might even have saved his career, but, as his grandfather used to say, most roads look different from the front of the wagon than they do from the back.

 

 

Almost all of Griftah's customers bought his "regular" items – the same ridiculous amulets the troll had been pitching in Shattrath – which were stored in a large orange barrel. Jadaar had learned the hard way that those items were technically legal, and so he did little but keep a running total of the money he needed to collect for Silas. However, once the initial crush of customers had been dealt with a suspiciously hooded figure with dark clothing melted out of the night and showed Griftah a slip of parchment, and in response the troll handed over a small satchel retrieved from beneath the tarp of the nearby Darkmoon wagon.

"What was that?" Jadaar asked after the mysterious figure had left.

"Dun know," Griftah had shrugged. "I jes' the delivery service."

He had accepted this explanation – until Griftah had delivered two more nondescript packages to two more questionable persons.

Jadaar now suspected that the "delivery service" was, as Asric had surmised, a clandestine operation for moving less-than legal merchandise, but as no money was changing hands Jadaar knew he'd have to do everything strictly by the book. In order to get ironclad evidence of Griftah's illegal activities he'd have to know _exactly_ what was in any package he demanded to inspect. And, once he had such evidence, he intended to guard it scrupulously himself until he made the arrests.

In short, he did not intend to repeat past mistakes. Such as entrusting evidence to Asric for safekeeping.

_Amazing amulets! Incredible curios! The newfangled jewelcrafters be havin' nothin' on the tried and true mystical methods of ol' Griftah! Improve yerself through these magical talismans for a bargain price!_

Griftah made truly outrageous claims about the properties of his wares. Jadaar had started the evening assuming that most of the troll's customers would be gullible fools tricked by false advertising, but as the night went on he came to see that the truth was almost entirely opposite. The customers seemed to know full well that Griftah's claims were ridiculous, but bought his overpriced wares anyhow because his huckstering and colorful patter made them laugh.

_Look over here, goblins! I got something for ya. Just what ya need! It's soap, right.. and it's on a rope! No offense, man, but yer a little ripe, know what I'm sayin'? Ain't been no wash-up since Kezan?_

For example, the two goblins – from their affectionate insults apparently brother and sister – who bought "soap amulets" and hung them on each others' necks with cries of "Phew you stink!" and "Offend much?" They kept buying the soap and hanging it on each other with ever more raucous laughter and increasingly incoherent dialogue until, from what Jadaar could tell, they claimed that they were going to Orgrimmar to give the soap to Garrosh. Along with the suggestion to build something called a "bidet."

"Ya go do dat," Griftah said. "Here, take de las' two soaps on de house." He shooed the goblins off as two attractive women – a dark-haired human and a night elf with a long blue braid – passed by.

_Ya look lovesick. Special Someone be gettin' ya down, eh? No worries, no worries. Ya get this medallion from me, ya wear it when ya see 'em, and they be all over ya!_

The women stopped and snickered. The elf looked at the paper attached to the amulet. "Charm of Potent and Powerful Passions," she read. "This amulet will win over your heart's desire. Guaranteed."

The human laughed, "Pfft, Kin, you don't need to wear one of these. You could be covered with ground-up corpse paste and it wouldn't make any difference to me."

"What an image!" the elf said with a smile, setting down the amulet but leaving a coin on the barrel nevertheless.

A sudden blare of static from the concert stage made the human wrinkle her nose. "Let's find somewhere quieter."

They strolled away arm in arm.

"Sweet, dem two," Griftah said with a little chuckle, turning to his next customer, a pallid blood elf who requested one of Griftah's most popular items – a "hula."

From what Jadaar could remember from Shattrath, hulas were tiny dolls of full-bodied women dressed in flowers and bits of vegetation. He'd always assumed that they were simple child's toys, but from the urgency with which Griftah's customers asked for them – and the amount of gold they paid – Jadaar supposed that they could have a darker use. The death knight certainly acted as if this was the case, as he furtively hid his purchase from a nearby paladin who seemed to be his companion.

"Huh," Griftah said after the two had left. "Wonder what _dat_ was about."

Jadaar shrugged and rebaited his fishing line as a Tauren accompanied by a glowing lava turtle came up to the barrel. She asked to buy twelve hulas.

"I only got five or six left," Griftah said. "Mebbe one or two in de wagon."

"But I need _twelve_ ," she said. "I have _money_ for twelve. You _have_ to give me twelve."

Griftah checked the barrel and then the wagon. "Nope," he said as he retied the wagon's tarp. "Seven be all, girl."

"All right." She handed Griftah a small money pouch, then took the hulas and hurried off.

Griftah poured the coins out and shook his head. "Now why she go and pay me for _twelve_?" He shrugged. "Well, I catch a nex' time."

A blood elf wearing a white hat and jacket hurried up, glancing around nervously every few seconds. "Protection?" he whispered urgently. "You have protection amulets? I'll take one of those. No, _two_. Better give me …" He brought out a small flashlight to read Griftah's item list. "Yes, I'll take Problem Solving, Treasure Tracking, and Immortality as well."

"You don't need more than – "

"Here." The blood elf pulled a handful of sparkling stones and several large gold coins from his pockets. "This is all I have. Is it enough?" He bit his lip and peered at the shadows around Griftah's wagon. "Quickly! I'm in a bit of a hurry!"

Griftah nodded. "More den enough – "

"Good." The frightened elf snatched up the amulets and ran off.

"Okey-dokey," Griftah said with a laugh. "Wonder what be chasing _dat_ chicken?" He held one of the stones up to the glare from the spotlights above the concert stage. "I can check better in the morning, Peacekeep, but how about I give you all da gold coin from dis sale? It don' be easy knockin' off a share piece off all dese pebbles for you and Silas."

"That seems acceptable," Jadaar said, catching the coin Griftah tossed to him. It was unlike like any currency he'd ever seen, but clearly made nearly unalloyed gold, as the images of cats and spires and serpents were almost rubbed smooth.

There was a flutter of wings, and a large bird landed on – and then fell off of – Griftah's orange barrel.

"And what can I be doin' for ya, druid?" Griftah asked. "Maybe you be needin' a Stone of Stupendous Springing Strides?"

The bird flapped its ruffled wings and then transformed into a young woman with green hair and antlers. "Yes," she said weakly, grabbing the edge of the barrel to steady herself. "Please."

Once she had paid for and donned the amulet she shifted to cat form and dashed away down the boardwalk, heading straight for a bench.

Now, Jadaar had seen shapeshifting druids before, but never one with such a lack of feline grace. Both he and Griftah winced as the druid crouched, leapt – and crashed into the bench. Jadaar hurried over to see if she was hurt.

"I'm fine," she said, sounding tearful. "Mostly just embarrassed." She sniffled, then raised her head and took a deep breath. "I'll just stick to tree and raven and sea lion, I guess. Some us us just weren't meant to be furry."

And then she flew away.

As there were now no customers approaching – the number of Fairegoers in general had dwindled – Jadaar said, "Did she really think your amulet would help her?"

"Sometimes folk tryin' to buy dreams."

"Dreams? Of what?"

"What ev'ryone want," Griftah said, yawning. "Love. Success. Long life. Dey pain stop hurtin'." Griftah shook his head. "But magic not powerful enough to carry all dat wit' no help."

.

The Faire was at low ebb. The musicians were playing their last concert of the night, the food and drink stalls were unrolling their awnings, and the game operators were half-napping. Most of the fairegoers were nuzzling couples: Jadaar supposed that they had plans for more private versions of ring toss and cannon ride.

And then it occurred to him that that was the sort of crude comment Asric might make. He wondered when he'd become so degenerate.

Griftah announced that he was done for the night, but would like to take a quick swim before bed. The carnies' beach was itself almost empty: there was one group talking quietly and playing cards, while a scattered half-dozen others were rolled up in blankets, asleep on the soft sand. As the breeze coming in from the sea was on the chilly side Jadaar sat just inside the bath-cave – where the dim embers from the firepit were maintaining a cozy warmth – and watched Griftah wade out into the water.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you?" It was Miresha. She sat down gracefully next to him, then held out the steaming mug she carried. "I thought you could use some thistle tea. Should wake you up a little. I heard Silas say that you and your partner will be guarding Griftah round the clock."

"Thank you." Jadaar took a small sip, then set the mug down. The tea was horribly bitter.

"You don't like it?" Miresha asked, leaning against his arm.

"I need to let it cool a little," Jadaar said. "Draenei have very sensitive tongues."

"I've heard that." She took the mug and blew on the tea to cool it, and though it was difficult to say for certain in the dim light, she seemed to be looking over at him in a way that was almost seductive.

Which was ridiculous.

"You must be eager for your partner to take over so that you can get some sleep." She held the mug out to him again. "What's his name? Eric?"

Jadaar pretended to take a sip of the tea: the stuff was undrinkable, but there was no point in hurting Miresha's feelings. "Asric."

Griftah emerged from the sea and said wistfully as he trudged past the two of them, "I wish I knew where mah girl Trix be sleeping tonight." Wrapped in a towel, he curled up by the firepit.

"At least you know she's probably not having sex with Asric," Miresha said.

Jadaar didn't think that Miresha meant it maliciously, but he couldn't see how anyone could find knowing what Asric was doing at that exact moment at all comforting.

.

He woke up when someone poked him in the ribs.

"Great job you're doing," Asric said sourly. "Is that special Peacekeeper training? Guarding people with your eyes closed and your mouth open?"

"Where's Griftah?" Jadaar asked, rubbing his eyes. His vision was blurry, but it was definitely morning. "Is he safe?"

"Yes, no thinks to you," Asric said, turning and walking out of the cave. "He's off taking a leak."

Jadaar tilted his head and frowned: was Asric limping? "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I'm all right." Asric was standing, his arms folded, glaring out to sea. Well, Jadaar couldn’t actually see if Asric was glaring, but that particular stiff posture usually came with a glare.

"Didn't you sleep well?" As soon as Jadaar asked this he knew Asric would take it the wrong way, that Jadaar was trawling for details of his night with Rodney.

"The wagon wasn't very comfortable," Asric tossed back over his shoulder.

Griftah appeared from the rocks at the north end of the beach. "Oh, so de _wagon_ be to blame for ya walkin' like ya got a flagpole up ya back door?"

Asric bared his teeth and growled.

Cackling, Griftah took off his medallion and disappeared from the beach.

Asric gave Jadaar a resentful look. "I'd like to slit that tusked pig's throat."

"Asric!"

"Shoveling elekk dung would be more pleasant than his company."

"You're not – "

"I'd rather clean viscera from the rat traps." Asric was warming to the topic.

"But – "

" _With my tongue._ "

"I see." Jadaar folded his arms. "Well, since I know from experience that there's no point in appealing to your professionalism, all I ask is that you fulfill your duty until I can find a replacement for you. Then youcan go wherever you want."

"Are you _seriously_ – ? GAH!" Asric was now most definitely glaring. "I thought by now you'd – !" He made a sound of contempt. "Idiot. Complete and utter _idiot_." He started to take his tabard off, then stopped and said venomously, "You can sleep in the cave, it's not a bath-day. I'll meet you here at sundown."

Then he yanked his tabard off so roughly that it tore, and he disappeared.

Jadaar felt inexplicably stung. What in light's name was wrong with the wretched elf? "None of my business, I suppose," he murmured, glancing around to see who might have witnessed their altercation. Unfortunately, it looked like the entire beach had, as a dozen people were either looking at him wide-eyed with shock, looking away in embarrassment, or chuckling and shaking their heads.

Well, there was nothing that could be done now. Jadaar went to the back of the cave, scooped out a shallow in the sand next to the firepit, pulled down a few clean towels to cover himself with, and let exhaustion drag him into sleep and away from shame.

.

From oblivion he sprang to full wakefulness.

"Mister Jadaar! Mister Jadaar! Wake up!"

He was being shaken by several sets of small hands.

"Hurry, hurry! You have to wake up! Mister Asric and Mister Griftah had a fight! He killed him!"

.

.

.

.

(04) 14 April 2012


	5. In Which Mysterious Happenings Are Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crimes and mysteries have touched the Faire, and Jadaar intends to get at the truth.
> 
> Thank you to **Jack of None** for beta. I have continued to use Jack's fanon surname of "Redmourn" for Asric.

_._

"Where is the body?"

"With Chronos in the East Back!" said the draenei girl – Jerrica? "Go ahead, we'll catch up!"

Jadaar knew that the children's short legs wouldn't be able to keep up with him if he ran, but he raced though the woods anyhow.

There was a crowd in Chronos' area – a dozen carnies, Gelvas, Kerri Hicks, Boomie Sparks. As Jadaar pushed through them he expected to see Griftah's body laid out in front of the campfire, with a cringing and penitent Asric standing nearby.

That is not what he saw.

It was Asric who lay face down on a field cot, pale and still, his face half hidden by his hair. A large dagger protruded from his back, just below the ribs. One arm dangled, unmoving, as Chronos carefully cut away his blood-soaked tabard.

"No!" Jadaar felt frozen in place, hardly aware of the tears that trickled down his face. "He's dead?"

"Your friend isn't dead. Yet." Chronos nodded to his assistant to remove the dagger, and as soon as it was pulled out he swept aside the remains of Asric's tabard and immediately pressed a large compress to the oozing wound. "The weapon worked like a cork. Kept him from bleeding out." He swiftly replaced the bloody compress with a fresh one.

"Will he? Can you?" Jadaar couldn't form complete sentences.

"As this injury is more serious than what I usually treat here, I've requested healers from both Thunder Bluff and Stormwind," Chronos replied. "I also called on a fully trained surgeon. If necessary they'll take him to a location with proper facilities." He lifted a corner of the compress and peered at the wound, then reached for a roll of bandage with his free hand and said to his assistant, "He clotted with satisfying alacrity. It's now safe to apply a temporary binding."

Jadaar took a deep, calming breath. He needed to set aside his worry: Chronos and the healers would provide the proper care. "Where is Griftah's body?" he asked as two carnies carefully lifted Asric's upper body.

"That," Chronos said as he wrapped the bandage tightly around and around Asric's midriff, "we do not know."

"Tatia couldn't find him," a childish voice said. Jadaar looked over to see Jerrica and the other girls standing by the wagons at the periphery of the crowd. The little blonde blood elf girl – Jadaar could not remember her name – looked especially fearful. "Everybody says Griftah fell into the water and floated away."

"This is not a matter that children should discuss," Jadaar murmured to Chronos, but before he could say more there was a commotion as Silas, Burth, Steven the fishing trainer, and Steven's worgen partner Tatia arrived.

"Let me at that dirty culprit!" Silas demanded. "When he awakes, Jadaar, you'll be arresting him for murder, I assume?"

"If there is sufficient proof that he committed a crime, yes."

"Of _course_ he did!" Silas shot back. "Griftah is missing!"

"Mister Darkmoon," Jadaar said, more calmly than he felt, "Please allow me to investigate the disappearance. Once I have examined the evidence and collected the facts, I assure you: if Asric Redmourn is guilty of murder, he _will_ be charged with murder. I give you my word."

.

Steven and Tatia, whose fishing stand on the boardwalk was near Griftah's, had been the ones to find Asric's body and seemed to have been the last ones to see Griftah alive. Jadaar took them aside and asked quietly, "Tell me everything you did and saw and heard this morning. Omit no detail, no matter how minor it seems."

"We opened the stand an hour before dawn," Tatia said. "It was very quiet until the two arrived."

"And after that it wasn't?"

"Griftah and Asric were arguing from the minute they got there," Steven said.

"What did they argue about?"

Steven shrugged. "Everyone knows that Griftah is – was – sweet on Trix. He didn't like that Asric had been goin' round with her, and told him so. Asric laughed in his face, and after that it was just a lot of insults and boasting, the usual thing. Griftah told Asric to stick to being Rodney's – "

Silas cleared his throat in warning, and glanced pointedly at the children present.

" – _friend."_ Steven finished lamely.

"Quite the libertine, is our Mister Redmourn?" Chronos said dryly.

"Anyhow," Steven continued, "after a while some customers came and so they stopped. We got kinda busy too, so the next thing I notice is Griftah and Asric walking past us, all the way to the end of the boardwalk and then toward the cove. When we noticed they hadn't come back we went over there to see what was going on, and that's when Tatia found Asric's body."

Jadaar nodded and said quietly, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to retrace your steps." He was hoping to conduct the investigation with the minimum of onlookers, but as the three of them headed out of Chronos' area and toward the boardwalk he saw that quite a number of people seemed to be following them. He could understand Silas wanting to be in the thick of the investigation – the Faire was his livelihood, after all – and where Silas went, Burth went, but not only was there was no need for Kerri and Gelvas and Sylvannia and the dozen or so assorted carnies and children to tag along. They were more likely than not to tread on evidence.

Still, he knew they were there from concern, and since he had neither the heart nor the authority to shoo them off he sighed and accepted that his audience would be a large one.

.

Little South Cove was aptly named: it was an angled notch biting into the southern perimeter of the island just east of the boardwalk and Ellie's zoo. Along its northwest shore the cove's narrow beach gave way to low rocks; along the northeast the cove was edged with sheer cliffs. There was a small rocky island in the center of the cove, and south of it a second, much larger island – approximately the size of the Faire's Pavilion tents – which sheltered the cove from incoming winds.

As Jadaar – accompanied by the assorted carnies – walked to the east end of the boardwalk he asked, "How did you know they were going to the cove?"

Steven rubbed his chin. "Well, I figured that's where they were going, since there's not much else over that way."

"Ah, there are their footprints – and yours – in the sand." Jadaar stepped off the boardwalk onto the beach, skirting the three sets of footprints. "You followed these around to the north?"

"Yeah."

"Then we will as well. Did Griftah have any unusual customers this morning? The sort that receives packages from his wagon?"

"Not that I remember," Steven said, glancing at Tatia. "To be honest I don't pay that much attention. Though I'm sure I'd remember if there'd been anything weird."

"That's all right," Jadaar said soothingly, "it's likely there wasn't anything. Did you hear any unusual sounds coming from the cove, or see anything strange?"

"No."

"Also not surprising," he said, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the fish stand. "This beach is visible only from the end of the boardwalk." He started to walk parallel to the footprints. "Did you wonder why they were going to this place?"

"Not really. It wasn't any of my business."

"But you knew they'd been fighting," Jadaar said mildly. "Shouldn't you have been concerned when you saw them going off to what you knew was an isolated location?"

"Well," Steven looked slightly guilty. "I mean, I didn't think they were _that_ serious. I didn't think they were going to _kill_ each other."

"I don't understand why everyone keeps talking as if we have found dead bodies," Jadaar said softly. "By my count we have only one wounded, and one missing." He paused. "How long before you followed them here?"

Steven frowned in concentration. "Ten or fifteen minutes?" He laughed nervously. "It's hard for me to tell time when the band isn't playing. I use Michael's announcements as a clock."

"And when you get here all you saw were these footprints in the sand. Which end … here." The north end of the beach, though not far from the zoo, was as isolated as the rest of Little South Cove: all that could be seen of the Faire were the tops of some tents.

"When I didn't see them I figured they'd headed up through the woods and taken the portal to the bathcave beach." Steven said. "I ran back and got Tatia in case we needed to break them up."

"It didn't strike you as odd that they took such an indirect route to get there?"

"A little. Tatia and I went the usual way, down the midway and up across the Back East to the portal."

"Then what happened?"

"I scented blood," Tatia said. "Faint, but upwind. It was stronger as I moved south, to where Steven said the footprints ended."

"Blood?"

"Elf blood. But tainted."

"How could you possibly know it was – " Jadaar started to ask.

"I know well," she replied, "the smell of sin'dorei blood. _And_ the taste." She smiled faintly.

"I see," Jadaar said, filing away this knowledge. "What did you do then?"

"We found his body, there." She pointed east of where they stood, toward the edge of the low cliff. "On the stone shelf. We saw the knife in his back."

"Please stay here for a moment, all of you." Jadaar moved slowly toward the spot Tatia had indicated, scanning the ground intently. When he reached the cliff edge he moved along it until he reached the underbrush, then pathed back and forth.

"What are you looking for?" Silas asked.

"I don't know yet," Jadaar murmured. "And there may be nothing."

He had covered almost half the open area between the trees and the cliff's edge when he saw a small flash. Dropping to one knee, he pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket and used it to coax out something half-embedded in the gritty black soil. Metal, about the length of two finger joints, one end was a flared cone, while the other was a tiny, sharp arrowhead. The tip had a dried clot of blood.

"What is that?"

"I don't know," Jadaar said. "Does anyone have something I could put this in for safe transport?"

Several people responded with cloth or leather pouches, but Jadaar selected a small metal container with a tight-fitting lid that Kerri Hicks offered. He used the parchment to push the metal object into the tin, then motioned Jerrica over.

"I have something very important for you to do," he said. "Take this to Chronos. Do _not_ open the container. Before you hand it over tell him to be very careful when he examines the contents."

Jerrica, her eyes shining with pride over being chosen, saluted him, took the tin and ran off.

Jadaar then moved to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Midway between the top of the cliff and the water was a low stone ledge – about the size of an average bed – its center mottled with blackish splotches. He examined the ledge closely before jumping down to an unbloodied spot.

"Now, just to make sure – you found no trace of Griftah?" Jadaar asked Tatia. "No ... smell of troll blood anywhere around here?"

"No."

"Did you notice anything at all out of the ordinary?" Jadaar asked.

Tatia thought for a moment, then said slowly, "The trees were still. The wind was silent." Her eyes widened in remembrance. "The water … was cloudy."

"Red clouds or white?"

"White."

Jadaar nodded. Everything was strengthening his theory, but he would need to convince Silas and the others of its validity. "And then, after you found Asric?"

Steven answered. "We heard some of the kids playing in the East Back, so when I went to get Chronos I sent most of them off to get Silas, and a few to get you."

"All right," Jadaar said. "We have come full circle, then. Before we return to Chronos and see what he has made of my potential clue, I want you to carefully consider this location." Jadaar spread his arms. "As I am now, standing on this ledge, I am unlikely to be seen by anyone in the East Back, including those who take the usual path to the portal. I cannot be seen from the boardwalk, or," he pointed up, into the center of the island, "by anyone on the entrance path." He looked down at the blood on the rocks. "And if I were not standing – well, it's unlikely I would be seen for hours or even days, even by someone walking along the beach or the cliff-side."

"Well," someone said sheepishly, "actually it's a backup spot for, um, _personal interaction_ , if the wagon by the outhouses is occupied."

There was gentle laughter, and someone else said, "You would know, eh Ferdelle?"

Jadaar nodded. "So, secluded, but popular enough that a body would be likely to be discovered by nightfall, then." He then pointed to the water. "So, that is not the only interesting thing. This ledge also permits easy access to the relatively deep water of the cove, and that makes it unusual. Elsewhere on the island, the deep water adjoins very high cliffs."

"What are you getting at?" Silas asked.

"Picture this. A small boat could easily be hidden from view as it received cargo from someone on this ledge. The small boat could then very quickly deliver its cargo to a much larger ship hidden behind – _that_." Jadaar pointed to the larger of the two rock outcroppings in the cove. "Behind that could hide a ship large enough to churn up the sea bottom, don't you think?"

"And make clouds in the water," Tatia said.

"Cargo?" Burth asked. "What cargo?"

Kerri slapped her hands together. " _A body!_ Griftah was kidnapped? Is that why he's missing?"

"It's one explanation that I am considering," Jadaar said. "Another is that he made arrangements to leave voluntarily."

"Why didn't he just use the city portals if he wanted to leave?"

"To avoid being seen, perhaps?" Jadaar said. "If Griftah did flee the Faire, what was he running from? If he was taken by force, what are his abductors' motives? Will there be a ransom? It would help if we could discover how they came to this precise spot. For now, as there doesn't seem to be evidence that the two were brought here by force, I hypothesize that Griftah came willingly, and Asric, as Griftah's assigned bodyguard, simply followed. But was Griftah the lured, or did he do the luring?" He paused and said, "And I intend to find whoever it was that stabbed Asric."

"And why," someone said.

"Nah, that part's obvious," someone else said. "He got in the way of whatever was goin' down."

Jadaar nodded. "Yes, I think you are correct. Whoever did it … " Jadaar stopped as a thought struck him. "Whoever did it might have known of the gossip about their rivalry, and wanted to lead us to the conclusion that the two had fought and killed each other, and that Griftah's body had fallen into the sea."

"But Asric didn't die," someone pointed out.

"No, but he would have, if not for Tatia," Jadaar said.

"So that knife," Burth asked, "used to fool us? It Trollish, but no look like either Amani or Gurubashi to me. Maybe Professor or Lhara will recognize."

"An excellent suggestion," Jadaar said. "See, this is good! The perpetrators underestimated us. They thought we would accept their manufactured scenario without question. They thought they had left Asric as good as dead. They thought we would not question Griftah's disappearance until the winds and currents had carried their ship far from here."

"That's dumb," a little girl's voice said firmly. "Don't they know anything about the island?"

"What's dumb?" Jadaar asked.

"What you said about currents," the girl said, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. Maggy. He remembered talking to her – was it just yesterday? – about dragon and elekk bones.

"First off," she said, sounding haughty and impatient, "it's like what I told Nadun when he said that Griftah's body was washed out to sea. A body _can't_ get washed away from here, because Professor Paleo said that there _aren't_ any currents in this part of the Great Sea. And since all the winds blow _toward_ the island no matter which side you're on, sails won't work. Boats have to row or use a motor."

Jadaar frowned. No currents? And the winds blew toward the center of the island? How could that be? "Silas," he asked, "where exactly is Darkmoon Island located?"

"I can't really say."

Jadaar was shocked. "But – you must! Lives may depend on it!"

"I don't mean I _won't_ say," Silas responded evasively, "I mean I _can't_ say … It's a long story, but trust me – I don't know exactly _where_ this island is."

There was a buzz of disbelief from the crowd.

"Excuse me," Tatia said with a hint of snarl, "but every moment spent talking geography lets the ones that did this get further away."

Silas nodded. "You're right. I'm not completely convinced of your theory, Jadaar, but just in case ... Burth, would you go ask Maxima to go up and take a look around for ships? Tell her to take peepers and a parachute."

Burth nodded and hurried off.

"And someone needs to take that knife to the Professor."

"I'll do it," Kerri said. As she left – followed by her entourage of girls – Silas asked, "What else do we need?"

"If a ship is sighted, we will need a way to go after it," Jadaar said.

"On it!" Gelvas said. "C'mon Rinling, let go talk to Yebb and see if we can get that flying contraption of yours fixed."

"Anything else?" Silas asked.

"I," Jadaar said, "I want to check in with Chronos. See what he made of that … whatever it is."

"Of course." Silas' smile was indulgent. "So tell me, Jadaar," he asked as they headed toward Chronos' area, "how did you figure all this out? It never would have even occurred to me that there was more to this than two boys fighting over a girl!"

"There were aspects that did not made sense to me." Jadaar said. "To stab someone over a woman – that usually is a crime of passion. It would have been more likely to happen on the boardwalk, in the heat of their arguing, and not an hour later after taking the time to walk to a secluded location. Then there were Asric's injuries. First, I know enough of Asric and his background to believe that he is relatively skilled in close hand-to-hand combat, but inclines to what are called "dirty tactics." Combined with his naturally suspicious nature, I believe that under normal conditions it would therefore be almost impossible to stab him in the back. Then, when Tatia said that they had found him face down on the ledge, and showed us the location, I began to think he must have been placed there and stabbed afterward."

"Why?"

"He had none of the injuries – bruises, scratches, bloody nose – consistent with falling face down onto stone."

"Maybe they fought on the ledge?" Silas asked. "And he simply collapsed when defeated?"

To Jadaar's surprise, Tatia answered. "No. Not enough room to maneuver, and the footing is too uneven." She shot Jadaar a quick apologetic look, but relaxed when he smiled and added, "Anyone planning to fight would have done it up above."

"Exactly right." Jadaar nodded.

"That thing you found?" Steven said, glancing at Tatia. "It, er, it looked like a hunting dart to me. I've, ah, seen something like it in Gilneas. Coated with sleep dust. Used for humane capture."

"I am trying not to jump to conclusions before facts are at hand," Jadaar said, "but yes, I have also seen similar objects used with reed-pipes on Draenor."

"I hire the smartest people on Azeroth," Silas said.

.

Steven and Tatia – the mention of Gilneas had clearly distressed them both – said apologetically that they needed to get back to the fishing stand for a while. Silas announced that he would head over to Maxima's to supervise the aerial reconnaissance, so Jadaar went on alone to check on Asric.

As he came in sight of Chronos' area Jadaar saw an unfamiliar figure in dark robes bending over the cot. The stranger was examining Asric's hands, which seemed to have become covered with soot.

"Ah, Jadaar!" Chronos said. "That was a _most_ interesting little item you had Jerrica bring to me!"

"Oh?" Jadaar watched nervously as the stranger used the skeletal thumb of his left hand to pull up one of Asric's eyelids – ostensibly to check his pupils. The sight made Jadaar cringe.

"But where are my manners?" Chronos said. "Jadaar, I've called on an old friend, Apothecary Arlecchino, who is, among his many other accomplishments, one of the foremost living scholars of esoteric poisons." Chronos paused for a moment, then added dryly, "Assuming, that is, that you define 'living' rather broadly."

"An … apothecary?" Jadaar had heard about the Royal Apothecaries. Allied with the enemies that had invaded the shattered Draenor, these Forsaken were said to perform hideous experiments on living prisoners and to animate amalgamations of the dead as abominations. An apothecary was the _last_ thing Jadaar wanted touching Asric, but if Chronos vouched for him, he supposed he could attempt to set aside this prejudice ...

And then Arlecchino turned and looked at him. Compared to Chronos – whose relatively intact undead face Jadaar had become accustomed to – Arlecchino was horrifying, a jawless, yellow-eyed nightmare with lank pewter hair and a rusted metal disk in the center of his rotting throat. He made an inhuman sound that could have been laughter or scorn.

"That item you found is a projectile typically used to administer poisons and paralytics," Chronos went on. "As its presence at the crime scene was highly suggestive, I then examined Mister Redmourn more closely, and found a puncture wound on the back of his neck."

Arlecchino turned back to Asric and used his right hand – which Jadaar could now see was a mechanical prosthesis – to brush Asric's hair away from his neck, and then pointed to a dark-red swelling.

"What I found did that?" Jadaar asked.

"No," Chronos said. "The tiny dart you found would make a cruciform puncture. Mister Redmourn's wound is perfectly round, and appears to be quite deep – more consistent with a needle-like agent. Arl believes that your friend has been injected with something far more intriguing."

Arlecchino made some sounds that Jadaar assumed were speech.

"Oh yes, quite right," Chronos said. "Jadaar, would you assist us by removing Mister Redmourn's boots?"

"His boots?"

"Yes. Certainly you've noticed the discoloration that has appeared on his hands? Arl wants to see if it's spread to the other extremities."

Jadaar carefully slid off one of Asric's boots, and then gasped. The foot was stained dark greenish-black.

Arlecchino made a circling motion with his hand that Jadaar took to mean _And the other one as well._

Once both feet were bare the apothecary took Asric's feet in his hands, spreading the toes and stroking the soles with his grotesque fingers of metal and bone. After several minutes of this he pushed back Asric's trouser legs, bent to peer closely at the faint green and black marks twining around the ankles, and then – with apparent reluctance – relinquished his hold.

He turned to Chronos and spoke at length in … whatever language he was speaking, his voice sounding crisply formal until the very end, when, his echoing voice dropping to a sinuous, blood-curdling purr, he turned and rubbed his knuckles over Asric's feet.

Then, without so much as a goodbye, he made a sweeping motion with one arm that produced a glowing green demonic circle beneath him, and disappeared.

"What did he say?" Jadaar asked.

"He has gone to his laboratory to research, but he is confident that once he identifies the poison's precise formula an antidote can be distilled."

"How … how long will that take?"

"One hopes it will be before the contamination reaches the torso. That is likely to be fatal."

"And at the end?" Jadaar asked. "What did he say at the end?"

"Well," Chronos said, "Yes. _That_. He expressed his admiration for Mister Redmourn's feet, and stressed how very much he would appreciate acquiring one in exchange for the antidote."

Jadaar was speechless.

"Of course, he lowered his price as a favor to me," Chronos said. "Usually he's paid _both_ feet for his services."

"Both?"

"He has also offered to purchase Mister Redmourn's body if he can't find a cure. I don't think I've ever known him to be so generous."

Fortunately, at that moment one of the fire jugglers dashed up to them. "Maxima's on her way down," the juggler gasped. "And she says she's seen something."

.

The gnome cannoneer was on the west boardwalk, supervising the folding of her parachute.

"There's a ship out there all right," she said. "About the same size as the intercity transports. Heading north with full sail. Although – well, it looked like there was a fire on the upper deck."

"How far away are they? And how fast are they going?"

"I can't really estimate," Maxima said. "But my gut says if they're been at it longer than about ten minutes, they aren't making much headway."

Gelvas came up, followed by Rinling and Yebb Nebelgear. "Well, we got good news and bad news, boss," the goblin said to Silas. "The good news is, Rinling's flyin' machine is ninety-nine percent repaired from the last time he tried to fly it."

"And the bad news?"

"We don't have the last piece we need to get running. I sent guys out looking but – "

"What is it that's missing?' Jadaar asked.

"A little doll ting," Rinling said.

"A _hula_?" Jadaar asked.

"Ya, that be the one," Rinling said. "I was meaning to get one from ma mon Grif, but – he be all out."

"Why do you need a _hula_ , anyhow?" Gelvas asked irritably. "It's ridiculous."

"Don' be dissing mah little good luck gal," Rinling said with a sniff.

"So what was she doin' when you crashed? Busy takin' a bubble bath?"

Rinling flapped a hand in Gelvas' face.

"Other options?" Jadaar asked, feeling frustrated. What he wouldn't have given for one of the Exodar's two-man survey pods!

"What about riding?" Yebb said.

"Across the water?" Jadaar asked, but as he said it he recalled that shaman were trained to do just that.

"Sure!" Yebb said. "Sylannia can make you those water-walking potions Gelvas uses to ride around looking for salvage."

"Shush!" Gelvas tried to kick Yebb, but the gnome dodged with a cackle. "That's it! You just lost your cut!"

"Anyhow," Yebb said, "Baby just got new shoes, so she's rarin' to go. She can carry two your size, no problem. Unless you'd rather take Jumbo?"

"No, no elekks," Jadaar said quickly. "The horse will be fine. Please prepare her while I get the potions."

.

Five minutes later, as he stood watching the drink vendor concoct the water potions, Jadaar felt someone poke him in the side.

It was the game skill-deficient dwarf death knight. "Whatcha doing there, lad?" he asked.

"Having some water-walking potions made."

The dwarf perked up. "You need to ride the sea? Hell, why dinna yeh say so? Dargrim of Ironforge at yer service! I'll come wit' yeh, lay down a frostpath. Easy as Hogger."

Jadaar was about to decline when Silas said, "It wouldn't hurt to have an extra hand in case there are – difficulties."

"Difficulties! Yeh mean like fightin' ? By Magni's thrice-braided chest hair, count me in!"

Feeling more and more that the escape from Draenor was less chaotic, Jadaar – followed by the death knight, who seemed to have hit it off with Silas quite resoundingly – hurried to receive quick riding instructions from Yebb, but before he got to the blacksmith's stand there was a commotion.

It was Trix. Collapsed on the midway, she was wailing and pounding her fists on the dirt. " _Who take my man?_ " she raged. " _Who take my darlin' Griftah!_ "

It was Rodney, of all people, who went and knelt next to her. "Bad people, Trix," he said, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Bad people. But Asric's friend is gonna get him back."

.

Once on the water, neither Baby nor Zeus – the dwarf's frost-rimed demonic steed – seemed nearly as apprehensive that their hooves were splashing on water as Jadaar was. It certainly didn't seem to bother Dargrim at all either, who had sobered from a befuddled buffoon into a steely-eyed, black-armored, bearded package of death.

Which was as comforting as it was unexpected.

It wasn't long before the ship's masts poked up from the horizon and Jadaar could see the flaming sails that Maxima had mentioned. As they got closer it looked as though the fire was being created by a lone figure on the upper aft deck, using a continuous gout of flame to belly out the sails with wind, augmenting the work done by galley oars laboring below.

Dargrim rode closer to Jadaar. "Somethin' about that ship's making me beard itch," he said.

Jadaar agreed. "I will ride up alongside and board," he said. "Take Baby's reins and follow directly behind the ship. If you see us jump overboard, stop and let us swim to you."

"Aye, I can pop down under the waves if needed. But what if ye don't jump? Kin I board too? Help yeh knock some skulls?"

"Only if I call for you," Jadaar said. "And only after I've checked what's below decks. Otherwise, return to the Faire and get reinforcements."

Although Dargrim didn't look happy about being deprived of skull-thumping, he nodded.

It was almost too easy. A rope ladder hung over the side of the ship. Once Jadaar had grabbed the rungs and hoisted himself off her back Baby slowed just enough to join Dargrim in the ship's wake.

Jadaar slipped inside the main cabin. It was bare except for a large cage bolted to the floor.

Inside the cage was Griftah, curled up and apparently in a deep sleep. The cage was locked with a padlock that would require two keys used simultaneously, making it almost impossible to pick even if Jadaar had had the tools or the skills to do so. But where there are locks, there are always keys. He could see a furnished room – the captain's quarters? – just beyond the semi-enclosed stairwell that led to the weather deck below where the fire-mage and the ship's wheel were. He moved quietly to peer inside. Captain's quarters all right – a large bed with an unexpectedly luxurious coverlet, a table stacked with maps and navigation instruments. There were also, oddly, a number of what looked like magical volumes and a rack holding small bottles labeled in an unfamiliar script. Jadaar quickly searched the table, the bedding, and every conceivable hiding place for the keys to the cage, but he hadn't expected to find anything. He was going to have to take the fire-mage on the top deck hostage. Either they were the captain, or they were valuable to the captain, so either way he was going to get the keys.

He moved swiftly up the stairs, crouching as he made his way across the deck and climbing the steps leading up the the uppermost deck until he was just barely able to see the face of the fire mage whose concentration was directed upwards at the sails.

And he gasped in shock. It was Miresha, the Faire's star fire-juggler.

"Oh Jadaar," she cried the moment she saw him, letting the flames dissipate as she clasped her hands. "Thank the Light you've come! I was so frightened! They – they've been forcing me to use use my fire skills to power the ship!"

"Who has?" he asked, now hurrying up the last few steps. "Who has been forcing you?"

She stumbled a little, and would have fallen had he not put out his arm to steady her. "Please help me get out of here," she whispered weakly. "I'm so very tired."

"I will, but I need to find the captain, and get his keys first," Jadaar said, "so that I can open Griftah's cage. Once I do that we can all get away from here, even though it will take some swimming. Is everyone else below rowing?"

"I think so.' She sagged more. "Oh! Could you carry me down those stairs first? I'm feeling so faint, I don't think I can make it!"

"Of course," Jadaar said, lifting her up and descending the stairs to the weather deck. "You can wait with Griftah while I get the keys."

"You're so sweet," Miresha said, putting her arm around his neck.

He had just stepped off the last rung when there was a sharp stinging pain just where Miresha's hand rested, and then another. He staggered, half-dropping her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I feel … " A chill nausea swept over him, and then his muscles gave way. Flailing, he dropped heavily to his hands and knees before falling on his side, his vision blurring. "Don't give away his feet!" he shouted, as the deck of the ship began to spin, faster and faster. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but it didn't help.

"Take him below," he heard a female voice say coldly. "Big strong brainless goat like that must have plenty of rowing power."

His last coherent thought was that somehow this too was all the damned elf's fault.

_._

_._

Additional thanks to **Jack of None** for allowing me to borrow the wickedly wonderful RP character Apothecary Arlecchino for this story, and to **Stinger** for several helpful suggestions.

.

(03) 30 June 2012


	6. Griftah's Amazing Amulets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach the island, and the abductor's plans are revealed. Can Griftah make suitable shinies before time runs out for Asric and Jadaar?

.

"Don' move."

The warning was whispered so quietly Jadaar supposed that he could have imagined it, but then came quick footsteps, the light coming through his eyelids was eclipsed, there was a swirl of air across his face, and then a voice.

"Pity. He's not going to wake up in time to row." A woman's voice, familiar, but his mind was too fuzzy to identify it. "No matter. He's of more use as meat for your incentive program. Is he one of those stoic types that bears pain silently?"

"No need for incentive. I tol' you I do what you want."

She laughed, a nasty, mocking sound. "As if I'd trust the word of a troll!"

The footsteps went away.

"Ya, well, better than _aqir_ ," Griftah muttered. "Hey mon, you still alive?"

Jadaar opened his eyes. Most of what he could see was blurry shadows, but just at the edge of his vision was the cage. A bent blue pipe waggled between the bars – no, it was Griftah's arm, waving at him. "Yes." His mouth was numb: all he could manage was a slurred mumble.

"Why you follow an' try to rescue me, mon?" Griftah asked. He sounded surprisingly emotional. "I swear by de bones, nobody ever risk life and soul for Griftah before. You and dat elf da best friends Griftah ever have."

Jadaar harumphed, though it was not much more than a puff of air.

"Did you find him alive or dead?" Griftah asked.

"Found," Jadaar said. "Not … dead." He tried to move his arms and legs, but he couldn't feel any of his body except for his chest and the side of his face, which was pressed against the rough planked cabin floor.

"I didn't cut him, mon," Griftah said. "Was Miresha and her boys, paintin' me up for murder."

"I know." It was worrisome, how much effort it took to push each word out. Didn't bode well for springing into action, but then he supposed that was the point. "Why … the … cove?"

"Found a note on my barrel," Griftah said. "Say come to meet special customer, big money. I tell dat elf to stay back but he say no, he guarding me, he come too. When we get there we see Miresha and some man. Man say he want to talk to me in private. Miresha say she can keep dat elf company."

Jadaar made a disgusted gargle.

"Ya, she know his weakness, dat for sure." Griftah said. "Anyhow, man take me over by the water and starts giving me butter and sugar, how he know my work for Silas and want me to make some special shinies for someone."

"Amulets? For who?"

"He didn't tell me," Griftah said. "Least, I don't think he did, since I was listenin' only one half one ear to him."

"Why?"

"Well," Griftah said, "I be busy watching Miresha pullin' at dat elf, tryin' ta turn him 'round." He chuckled. "You should have seen her getting sour because skinny chicken was watchin' me business instead of peckin' at her."

"Then … what?"

"I feel a sting on my shoulder," Griftah said. "Next I know, my legs going soft. Dat elf starts yellin' I should run, and Miresha grab her hand on his neck like she scared."

"Poison needle. Ring ... probably."

"Ya," Griftah said. "Dat elf – " He paused, then said firmly, " _Asric_ – he try hard to save me when he see it goin' down. Two men come from the trees and he try to take both so I can get away. And he fight good wit no knife, kickin' dirty in the fork of dey legs, but her poison it unstring him fast. When he fall Miresha tell everyone be quiet, because children are playin' in East Back woods. She say must hurry, can't worry about dart, stupid goat never gonna find no how."

"Hmpf. Wrong." Jadaar tried moving his shoulders again, and this time could feel, very faintly, his arms across his back. Tied together, most likely. He supposed his legs were bound as well. Miresha was certainly taking no chances, even in the middle of the sea.

"Next I know I be over the edge of the cliff an' in a boat. Dey put Asric on some rocks, and den …"

"Stab him."

"Yeah." Griftah was subdued. "But he fine now? All fix up?"

"No." Jadaar wished he knew how much of the difficulty he was having in moving was from Miresha's poison, and how much from being bound. "Different poison. Chronos said … slow death." He felt a chill saying that, as if speaking the words would make it so.

Griftah was silent for several minutes. "Damn bug."

"Bug?"

"She _aqir_ , mon. Troll always know _aqir_."

Jadaar almost laughed. "Is that … some sort of insult?"

After Griftah explained, Jadaar didn't feel like laughing anymore. Griftah claimed that Miresha's true form was that of a giant stinging insect similar to the Nerubians and the Qiraji. This "third race," according to Griftah, had been cut off from the spider and beetle _aqir_ millennia ago when Kalimdor's original continent had been shattered.

Jadaar was astounded. Putting aside the ridiculousness of Griftah's claim – giant insects indeed! – it was imperative to get to Miresha's motive in all this. "What does … she want … with you?"

"You'll find out," Miresha's voice sliced in. "Soon enough."

There was a hissing noise, and a bitter-smelling fog gusted into Jadaar's face. He held his breath as long as he could, hoping that the mist would dissipate, but when he at last gasped for air he breathed it in and passed into blackness once more.

.

He awoke to the sight of rounded gray stones moving past a slit in the floor, but after a moment he understood that he was off the ship, in a crude cart moving along a street. A large number of voices were chanting "Apok'rita! Apok'rita! Apok'rita!"

He very much hoped that this did not mean "Kill the blue-skinned prisoners."

The cart bumped over the cobblestones, turned to the right and onto a road of smooth stone blocks, and gradually left the chanting crowds behind. They rode into shade – he could feel the sunlight leave the back of his head and neck – and there were loud deep sounds that suggested the movement of immense wooden gates. The cart jerked, then moved forward a short distance, back into sunlight. He was grateful for the warmth as he listened to light metallic jingling and leathery noises. Harness being detached?

The floor of the cart tilted abruptly. Something heavy – most likely the unconscious Griftah – slid against him and pushed him off the cart and onto the ground, pressing his face into the dirt.

He forced himself to keep still until the gates creaked again, there was the sound of fading hoof-clops, and then silence.

Between being face down and being smothered by dead weight he was having trouble breathing, so he turned his head to the side – regrettably, right into Griftah's armpit.

"No one can resist me trollmusk," Griftah muttered.

"You mean no one can survive it," Jadaar said, coughing.

Griftah groaned as he got to his feet. "I guess this prison yard be my workshop," he said. "Lemme see if there be anything can cut ya ropes."

From what Jadaar could see, they were, indeed, in what looked like a prison yard. Six floors of barred cells surrounded them on three sides; the fourth wall was a pair of huge ironbound wooden gates. In the center of the open area was a large table holding dozens of flasks, dried herbs, and glass jars of what might have been body parts. Next to the table a black cookpot hung over a pile of unlit firewood.

Griftah came back and began sawing at Jadaar's bonds. "Hey mon, what's up with ya fingers? You be makin' squid ink?"

Jadaar pulled one of his hands free. They were shaded as if with soot, and dark green lines circled his wrist.

Griftah went over and began to poke through the ingredients on the table. "So, what be all dat on you?" he asked in a low voice.

"Same poison she used on Asric," Jadaar said, ashamed that there was a tremor in his voice. It wasn't death itself – he'd faced it before, been near it a few times – it was the circumstances. If it was not his fate to die in old age, surrounded by family, at least he had expected to die in battle for some worthwhile cause, fighting the Legion or the Scourge or the Twilight cult. He most certainly did not want to fade away as a bystander to some ridiculous scheme.

Griftah stopped and looked over at him. "I tell her she mus' give us antidote, less I won' do her dirty work."

"She won't agree to that," Jadaar said.

"I won't agree to what now?" Miresha was leaning on the railing of the top floor's balcony, looking down at them. "It's so amusing that you think you're in a position to negotiate."

"So what we doin' here?" Griftah called up to her. "Plantin' a garden? Let's get on wit' it!"

"So eager to be of service," Miresha said. "I like that."

"Wanna get done, so we can get gone," Griftah said.

Miresha smiled. "I see. All right then." She leapt over the edge and floated down to them.

(For an instant, just an instant, Jadaar thought that he saw the shape of phantom wings, six legs, and a grotesquely swollen thorax and abdomen, but then he blinked and it was gone. Merely a trick of the near-blinding sunlight and the poison fueled by Griftah's fanciful tales.)

"Now," Miresha said as she landed. "Oh, and," – this was addressed to Jadaar – "don't get any heroic ideas." She glanced up at the guards watching from the floors above. "My Royal Protectors. Don't move unless you'd prefer to be a pile of smoking meat." She turned back to Griftah. "I want an amulet that will make me invisible."

"Pishbo, easy," Griftah said.

"So you have everything you need to make one?" Miresha folded her arms. "I hardly believe that."

"You didn't listen," Griftah said. "I said it's easy once I get what I need to make it happen."

"Such as?"

Griftah then began to name – well, Jadaar assumed they were ingredients, as he'd never heard of most of them. The last thing Griftah said was, "And get de fire going. A cold cauldron ain't no help to no one."

.

After Miresha levitated out of the courtyard – happily, Jadaar didn't hallucinate wings – the wooden gate opened just enough to admit a dozen or so armed guards, several robed persons carrying firewood, and finally a glassy-eyed gnome with a set of heavy hobbling shackles.

"There's no need for those," Jadaar said, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"Apok'rita wishes it," the gnome droned. The guards pointed their weapons.

"Do what you must," Jadaar said, seating himself as comfortably as possible on the tilted cart bed, then stretching out his legs.

Griftah looked over at him. "No worries, mon, " he said, and winked. "Ev'rything gonna work out fine."

.

Jadaar didn't know that much about amulet-making. Actually, he didn't know much about troll magic in general, but he'd always thought that the purpose of magic was to make certain tasks happen more simply and quickly. Amulet making, however, seemed to be neither simple not quick, and was apparently not interesting enough to keep him awake through the hours of … whatever Griftah was doing so purposefully at the table. One moment Jadaar had settled himself a little more comfortably in the corner of the cart, and the next he woke to see that the courtyard was now filled with chilly shade.

"Hey mon, welcome back," Griftah said, stirring whatever was bubbling in the cauldron and then coming to sit beside him. "How you doin' ?"

Jadaar turned his head to look at Griftah with his good eye. "I have been better."

"It be fine. You see. Trust old Griftah."

Jadaar didn't see how. The poison lines on his arms were already half-way to his elbow: hadn't Chronos said that when they reached his torso he'd die? He wondered if Asric was still alive. The thought that he might not be … was distressing.

"Done so soon?" Miresha had materialized from a shimmer of air.

"Ya," Griftah said as he stood and went to the table. "Had to try a few times, dem _ememe_ berries wasn't ripe enough to give much juice." He glanced at Jadaar. "We goin' make a deal here, Miresha. You give me cure for dat poison, you get the shiny."

Miresha laughed. "And why would I do that?"

Griftah stood tall and said, "Go 'head and say no, den. Kill me, even. You ain't gonna find a better mojo maker, dead or alive."

Miresha looked from Griftah to Jadaar, then said. "I'll agree, but here are _my_ terms. You're going to work a few more more magics for me, and after each one I'll reward you with a _portion_ of the cure."

"We need enough for his elf friend, too."

"Who? That little red-haired … "

"Ya, that one," Griftah said.

Miresha got a crafty look. "Alright, troll. If you swear to give me _exactly_ what I ask for, I'll swear to give you enough antidote for the goat's friend."

"What we oath-binding on?"

"The Twisted Thread?"

Griftah swallowed hard, then nodded. "All right. Bring it."

"What – " Jadaar started to ask, but Griftah shook his head.

After the oath was sworn – using, Jadaar was surprised to see, an actual piece of black thread which Griftah twirled into a loop and arranged in the palm of his hand – Griftah held out the amulet to Miresha. "I trust you keep your word, and bring the cure now?"

"In a minute." She pointed to Jadaar. "I'm a cautious buyer. I want to see this invisibility before I take the amulet. Make him demonstrate it to make sure it won't liquify me."

"No trust," Griftah said, shaking his head. He handed the amulet to Jadaar, "Hold tight in ya hand, and say _lo'erin akrul_."

"That's all?" Jadaar added under his breath. "I won't be liquified?"

"Ya be fine."

Jadaar did as Griftah instructed, but nothing happened: he could still see himself, solid as the irons around his ankles. He heard a squeal above him, and looked up to see a second Miresha on an upper floor, clapping her hands.

"Ya can open ya hand now," Griftah said with a chuckle.

The Miresha in the courtyard disappeared as the one above – the real one, Jadaar realized – said, "Well, I admit I'm impressed. I didn't actually think a buffoon like you had any real power. Why do you waste your time making those idiotic amulets?"

"Amulets been good business. A troll gotta eat."

"You could charge a hundred, even a thousand times the price of those love amulets for these."

Griftah shrugged. "Big mojo is hard work. Costs big money to work it, and it bite ya ass if you sloppy." He added, "Dead troll don't eat much."

"Alright, you delivered this one," Miresha said. "Put it on the table and I'll bring the first dose of antidote." She waved her hand, and black smoke spun off her fingertips, coalescing into a cloud that descended to the table and covered the amulet in a swarm of small insects. After a moment the swarm rose into the air, carrying the amulet up to Miresha and leaving behind a vial of dark greenish liquid.

Griftah snatched it up and hurried it over to Jadaar. "Drink up, mon!"

Jadaar held the vial. "You will bring enough for Asric?"

Miresha smirked. "I swore by the Thread, remember?"

He nodded and drank. To his surprise, the green lines along his forearm quickly faded, although some still circled his wrist.

"He still got de poison!" Griftah said indignantly.

"I told you, " Miresha said. "That's not a full dose. It'll take more than one to cure someone completely."

Griftah bared his teeth, a truly menacing sight. "Fine. What next?"

"I want," Miresha said, talking as she used the amulet to turn invisible and then back again, "to travel from this island to anywhere I want, and to bring things back here when I return."

"Why?" Jadaar blurted out, feeling uneasy at this request. Combined with invisibility, this would make Miresha an unstoppable thief.

"I need some prettier and more interesting subjects," Miresha said. "I'm tired of seeing the same faces every day."

Griftah rubbed his jaw. "So you want like a city portal," he asked slowly. "For comin' and goin' ?"

"Yes, but one only I can can use."

"Can't bring no one back through a private portal," Griftah said. "Spit 'em right out like a melon seed."

Miresha pouted. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"And I can only make a portal to one place. You wanna go lots of places, use ya ship."

"Ship travel is boring, and takes too long," Miresha said. "I need a place where lots of interesting people go. Someplace with portals to other places would be best."

"Shattrath?" Griftah suggested. "City portals there."

Miresha shook her head. "Not enough people. Isn't there any place else?"

"Well," Griftah said, scratching his chin, "Darkmoon? Lots of people come that week."

Jadaar was stupefied. Girftah had to be up to something. He couldn't seriously be talking so casually about how to help Miresha kidnap people.

Miresha made a face. "I suppose it'll have to do. Where will the portal be?"

"Wherever you want. West side has good hiding spots."

"But not too close to Rona," Miresha said. "She's creepy."

"I can send you out and get you back, one time," Griftah said, taking off his Darkmoon phasing amulet. "While you out there you gonna need to bury a special gray bag where you want ya portal on. And bring me some scoop of earth from the bury spot."

"No tricks, now," Miresha said. "After all, if I don't come back, there's no antidote."

"If you don' come back, _everyone_ gonna be unhappy," Griftah replied. "You, me, Mister Jadaar here. Dat elf. Da Thread." He grinned, which was almost as frightening as his menacing look had been. "I sure don' want get dragged into da Twisting." He reached up and pulled a hair from his head. "Now shoo, woman. I got work ta do."

.

The travel charm took far much less time than the invisibility one, although it involved some steps that Jadaar was glad to have missed the first time around.

Particularly the ones that involved various body fluids.

Miresha appeared just as Griftah was finishing up, and she apparently didn't know – or didn't care - what was in the small bag the troll handed her.

"Remember," Griftah said. "Bury the bag, bring back dirt."

"And what do I do to return here?" Miresha asked. When Griftah whispered in her ear she glared at him, furious, then put the amulet around her neck and disappeared.

"What did you tell her to do?" Jadaar asked.

"I guess she don't like disturbing the moss," Griftah said.

Jadaar decided not to ask for further explanation.

"So … " Griftah sat down. "I can see ya frettin' about dat skinny chicken. But he tough. Probably kickin' dat poison in de sac right now. He ever tell ya about the tricks and trouble he done up in Netherstorm?"

"Netherstorm?" Jadaar frowned. "But wasn't that ... wasn't that before he joined the Scryers?" And by extension, before he'd met Jadaar.

Griftah blinked, and Jadaar recognized the expression, even on a troll. It was the _Oops!_ expression he'd see whenever he tripped up a suspect in their own lies. "You knew him before Shattrath," Jadaar said, as his world tilted and a number of small pieces that had never made sense about the whole Griftah fraud debacle fell into place. "He didn't lose the evidence I gave him for safekeeping, did he? He destroyed it deliberately. You bribed him to sabotage the investigation." And now Jadaar remembered cryptic comments Asric had made from time to time during their stay in Dalaran's Underbelly, comments that suggested that Asric had been paid to stay underfoot. "That's why he followed me to Dalaran! To warn you in case I dug up enough to file charges!"

Griftah pursed his lips, then nodded. "Ya, but hold up ya righteous long enough to hear dis: I didn't pay him to go along wit' ya to Northrend Tournament. Or ta Darkmoon."

"So what?" Jadaar wasn't as much angry as hurt. And then he was angry _because_ he was hurt.

Griftah looked at him disbelievingly. "Serious mon, you got a coconut in you skull? Don' you know dat Asric all up in a tangle about you?"

"You're … you're joking!" Jadaar said, flustered. "That can't possibly be true." He shook his head. "He acts as if he can barely tolerate associating with me."

"He been playin' the grindsman to get your hackle," Griftah said, then added slyly. "Look to me like it workin' good. Everyone see your greeneye when he pretend he goin' go off and be humpity-hump for Ironman."

Jadaar had to admit that the Rodney situation had bothered him more than he'd wanted. "Pretend?"

"Ya, Rodney and Clover be making cow-eyes for so long, we all jes' about ready to lock 'em in a cage 'til they stop bein' so shy and 'fess it up." Griftah said. "Maybe we do the same for you." He looked sideways at Jadaar. "Ya people have a prohibit on it? Ya getting a look on me here."

"No," Jadaar said. "No, it's just that … " He hesitated. Perhaps if he explained, Griftah would respect his privacy and drop the subject. He took a deep breath. "I don't consider _t'branec pa'norrem_ to be an appropriate subject for frivolous public discussion." Really, it was slightly humiliating to have to state something so obvious.

"So that all there is?" Griftah asked gently. "It bug you when people make jokes 'bout it?"

"It's not just that," Jadaar said, surprised to be having this conversation with Griftah of all people. "Being friends with Asric is difficult because … he's not only an outsider, he's a blood elf."

"Ahhh." Griftah nodded. "Blue-eyed and green-eyed, elves been enemies of both our peoples. So bein' friends wit' one, mos' don't approve." Griftah put his arm around Jadaar's shoulder. "Cheer up, mon! At leas' when you work Darkmoon, none of Silas people goin' spit on you. You and Asric can hang together all you want."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."

Miresha materialized on Griftah's work table, sitting cross-legged, one cupped hand holding earth. Across her lap was Asric. The green lines on his arms had reached his shoulders.

"You can't be friends with the dead."

_._

_._

_._

.

(05) 16 May 2012

 


	7. Escape From Death Queen Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen shows her true self, Jadaar does some things he never expected to do, and Griftah saves the day.

.

_._

"I picked up a little present for you," Miresha said, pouring her handful of earth into an empty crucible. "But don't get all worked up. He's not dead yet. Although from the look of those lines it could be any moment."

Jadaar jumped up, and had to grab the edge of the wagon to keep from falling. "You promised an antidote!" he raged, hobbling over to the table as fast as the leg-irons would allow. "Give it to him!" Several guards ran between him and Miresha, holding him back with their weapons.

"Do I look like a caregiver?" Miresha said lightly, then warned, "Keep it up and you'll go before your friend."

Jadaar was close enough to see that, although Asric's skin had a sickly green tint, he was still breathing, although the breaths were shallow and erratic. He forced himself to stand still.

"That's better," Miresha said. "No need to get bossy – I did, after all, promise enough antidote for the elf." She smiled.

"Why are you waiting?" Jadaar demanded. Seeing Asric so near death – all of his earlier anger was washed away. This person – this person – when had this person, this annoying Scryer thief, become so important to him?

"I'm waiting for you to catch on … " Miresha said. "I do hope the expression on your faces will be worth all the work I've done."

"Catch on to what?" Griftah demanded. "What you do?"

Miresha sighed. "You two are unbelievably stupid. It's taking all the fun out of it."

"You swore an oath to cure them!" Griftah said.

"No," Miresha said with a malicious smile, "I swore to provide enough antidote to cure the elf."

"You can't mean … " Jadaar said, as a terrible fear flooded his chest.

Griftah clenched his fists and growled, then muttered something in Trollish.

"About time!" Miresha said to Jadaar. "Really, taking the first dose for yourself was quite selfish."

"Selfish?" Jadaar was astounded. "If I had known you were only providing enough for one person, I wouldn't have taken _any_ for myself!"

She laughed. "Oh, no, of course you wouldn't have!"

"I don't care if you believe me or not," Jadaar said. "Please give us another dose so that Asric can be cured!"

"Are you begging?" She raised an eyebrow. "Lucky for you you're hobbled – otherwise I'd require you to kneel."

"If that is what it takes." Jadaar fell to his knees, the spiked insides of the irons piercing his ankles to the bone, but he didn't care. "Please." He clasped his hands in supplication, and bowed until his head touched the dirt.

Griftah said gently, "Jadaar mon, don' be making no desperation deals with this _aqir_."

"I'm impressed," Miresha said to Jadaar. "And more than a little surprised. From the way you fight I had no idea you were sweet on the little bastard – or does the fighting just spice up the makeup sex? Bet that's a sight. A goat topping a chicken." She smirked. "Tell you what. Since I'm such a sucker for dramatic gestures, I'll be generous and cure you both."

Jadaar knew she wasn't to be trusted, but nevertheless he said immediately, "Thank you. Whatever you ask, I will do it. But let it be done quickly."

"So here's what I'm thinking," she said, snapping her fingers at the guards. "Self-sacrifice is just puffery to make yourself look and sound good for the audience." She made a buzzing noise and two clicks, and the guards stepped to the table and lifted Asric off her lap. "Friendship, altruism, compassion, empathy – they don't exist undiluted," she said as she slipped off the table. "People never do anything unless they see some benefit to themselves."

Jadaar shook his head. "If you truly believe that, I feel sorry for you. What an angry, unhappy existence you must have."

For an instant, Miresha's expression softened, but then she said angrily, " _I'm_ the one talking here, not you, so shut up unless you want me to change my mind." She pulled out the second vial of antidote as the guards put Asric back down on the table. "Now, draenei, I'm going to give you a choice – even though I know what you'll choose." She nodded to the guards. "Bring him here."

The guards dragged Jadaar to the table and yanked him to his feet.

"Go ahead and maintain this kind and noble act if you want to, but you're not fooling me," Miresha said. "Put your hands behind your back and open your mouth."

"Why?"

"Just do it," she hissed.

Reluctantly, Jadaar complied, but when Miresha made to pour the vial into his mouth he twisted his head away. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Give that to Asric!"

"No, _you're_ going to give it to Asric," Miresha said. "Or you can pretend to, I really don't care. Either way, I'm going to pour this into your mouth, and you can either swallow it or give it to your friend. No one but you will know what decision you made – until one of you dies, that is."

 

 

Jadaar's face was burning, but he gathered up all his emotions and knotted them into silence. "If I do this," he asked, "do you give your solemn word that you will provide an additional dose for Asric, to replace the one I drank?"

"Oh, of course, " Miresha said, "but only if you administer each though a kiss. A _lover's_ kiss."

"They ain't that way for each other," Griftah said furiously. "Ya no need to be so cruel!"

"But I love seeing the big ones get all bashful and squirmy!"

Her eager expression sickened Jadaar, but what else could he do? "I am ready."

"Open wide," she said. "And be careful! Wouldn't want to spill any."

It was difficult, in that first instant, to suppress his instinct to swallow, but he quickly pressed his lips together and bent over the table to keep any of the antidote from trickling down his throat. Hatred for Miresha, and this degrading thing she was making him do, surged through him, but he had to concentrate on this task. He banished the word _kiss_ from his mind; this was not a kiss, this was a procedure, and the only thing he should focus on was how to transfer the liquid in his mouth to Asric's. Fortunately, the elf's lips were slightly parted, so at least there was some egress. He supposed that he could simply open his mouth and let the antidote drip out, but there was the chance that some would be lost that way, and so, keeping his lips tightly closed, he lowered his mouth to Asric's, nuzzling until his lips were against the elf's teeth, and then slowly poked his tongue out and into Asric's slack mouth, letting the antidote flow in. He had no idea how to ensure that Asric wouldn't choke on the liquid, but it seemed that the touching of their tongues was helping in that regard, triggering a swallow reflex.

And then, even in such an awkward position, with Miresha snickering on the other side of the table, the word _kiss_ started to become un-banished. Mentally apologizing to Asric, and hoping that enough of the antidote had been transferred, he closed his mouth and straightened up.

"Well, that wasn't bad," Miresha said. "Not nearly as hot as I was hoping it would be – the eyepatch is ugly and distracting, and your head is so _enormous_ that it blocked most of my view. Still, I'm looking forward to the next dose almost as much as you are."

"I am not doing this for your entertainment," Jadaar said. "I am doing this because I want to save my friend."

Miresha rolled her eyes. "Put him back in the cart," she ordered the guards.

.

Miresha left – "To take my afternoon bath and be worshiped" – and Griftah hurried over to Jadaar with rags and herbs to staunch the bleeding from the leg irons.

Jadaar was grateful that the troll was silent: he didn't think he could take any colorful aphorisms just then. He watched from the corner of his good eye as Griftah went back to the table, put a folded cloth under Asric's head as a pillow, then stood by the elf's side, apparently watching for any sign that the poison was retreating.

"Trix," Jadaar said.

"What?"

"Trix. Just before I left, she called you her darling man. She was very upset that you had been taken."

"Really?" A slow grin brightened Griftah's face. "How 'bout that." He turned back to Asric, and peered close at the elf's upper arm. "Hey, I think it fadin' a little, mon."

"Good," Jadaar said wearily. "That's good."

.

Miresha returned not long after. "I'm so refreshed!" she said. "Now, where was I? Oh yes. I've decided that I want you to craft me an amulet that will make every one who sees me fall in love with me."

Griftah chuckled. "Let me guess. You went out any snatched you some people, and they din' say thank you?"

"I don't understand it," Miresha said. "Usually my presence is enough to inspire total, absolute worshipful adoration. Do you know, since my subjects feel blessed just to catch a glimpse of me, those I deign to speak to usually commit suicide from pure happiness? But these new ones I took from the Faire," she said, pouting, "they didn't adore. I suppose subjects from the ugly races might show the proper respect, but I don't want to have to look at them."

"You are beyond vile," Jadaar said. "Treating people as puppets for your amusement. Do you even value those who worship you now? Will you value those you will force into worship?"

"Hm," Miresha said to Griftah, her eyes cold. "Is there a wind in here? I thought I heard the wind blowing. Making noise, saying nothing."

Griftah glanced at Jadaar and frowned. "Don' worry about that guy," he said to Miresha. "He in some pain."

"Sure, from making a fool of himself," Miresha said. "Anyhow, back to my amulet. How soon can you deliver?"

Griftah stroked his chin. "Pretty quick, if you can bring me four five love mojo bags from me wagon. And one each blue and bronze dragonscale."

"Bronze? That's not going to be easy."

"Warders in Tanaris Cavern shed 'em," Griftah said.

"Oh, right." She disappeared.

Griftah grabbed a handful of woody plants from the table and hurried over to Jadaar. "Why you makin' trouble?" he asked crossly, beginning to snap the twigs and stems in half, breaking each with a small crack. "Sooner get done, sooner get out of here," he said sternly. Finding a twig that was too green to be broken, he waved it at Jadaar. "Ya chew some here, it be helpin' the pain." As he bent down to hand the twig to Jadaar he whispered, low and urgent, "Follow me lead, even if it be crazy."

Then he turned and sauntered back to the table, putting his hands on his hips in annoyance. "Why she leave dis elf in me way? Can't get no work done!" He pushed Asric aside – but gently, Jadaar saw – and began to work, crushing herbs with the pestle, measuring and mixing various liquids, sorting through piles of tiny bones and small flat stones, using a small knife to inscribe marks on some of the stones. From time to time he'd absently stir the leavings into the cauldron, like someone making a soup of leftovers.

Miresha returned, holding the dragonscales and four small red mojo pouches from Griftah's inventory. She glanced at Jadaar. "What's that stick in his mouth?"

"Pain chew," Griftah said, taking the dragonscales, looking them over, then tossing the bronze one into the cauldron. "Keep him mouth quiet."

"I'd rather just kill him, " Miresha said, watching as Griftah shook the contents of the pouches out onto the worktable. "He's annoying."

"Now I tol' ya, don' wan me man dead," Griftah said, quickly sorting the heap of crystals, metal flakes, small bones, and powdered herbs from the pouches into neat piles. "Him life be me payment."

"Keeping _your_ life is your payment," Miresha said sharply. "These other two are optional."

Griftah dropped the blue dragonscale into the mortar and began to crush it with the pestle. "All right," he said. "Jes need one ingredient more."

"Which is?"

"Gonna need some ya royal jelly. Ya can get?"

"Why do you need it?" Miresha looked suspicious.

"Makin' a Queen bag," Griftah said easily, peering at the pulverized blue dragonscale, then grinding it with extra vigor. "Gotta feed it Queen food."

Miresha turned to the guards and made sounds that send two of them scurrying, then turned back to Griftah. "Am I going to have to keep this third amulet you're making moist as well?" she asked frostily. "Because I truly dislike having to stay in blood elf form for the travel one."

"No," Griftah shook his head. "Travel stone almost done drinkin' ya lady juices. And Queen stone only needs one feedin'."

She sighed with exasperation. "This is turning out to be much more work than I expected."

"Hang to it," Griftah reassured her, "One last, and ev'rything be set." He added, "Ya be givin' us more antidote after?"

"In my pocket," Miresha said, patting her hip. "Very delicate glass, though. Easily broken."

"I ain't gonna grab nothing," Griftah said. "Ya made a Thread-oath."

"You know," Miresha said thoughtfully, eying Griftah, "I'm not sure I want you to rush off. It would be nice to have a Royal Conjurer again."

He shrugged. "I got people ta tend back at da Faire. But I open for freelance work."

"People?" Miresha laughed. "You don't mean that purple-haired troll slut who's given it up to everyone but Jumbo the Elekk?"

Jadaar, who had forced himself to sit silently chewing the end of the tasteless twig for the entire conversation, was sure that this comment would dissipate Griftah's cool, but the troll shook his head and said only, "Sometimes the gift better den de wrappin'."

"Sure, when the box opens for everyone," Miresha said, just as the guards came back escorting an insectoid carrying a brownish bowl of a thick ivory substance. "Mmm, now I'm hungry," she said. "Is this almost finished?"

"Ya," Griftah said. "Almos' done." He threw a handful of something in the cauldron, and thick, acrid smoke began to billow out.

"What are you doing?" Miresha demanded, coughing and waving her hand.

"Las' part of de spell," Griftah said, "Don worry, it clear soon." He held out a small red pouch. "Here be the worship mojo: all who can see you will worship you. When you take it, me oath be fulfilled."

As Miresha took the pouch Griftah suddenly fell to the ground with a moan. "Hail to da Queen!" he cried put. "Jadaar mon, adore dis goddess wit' me!"

Jadaar – who'd received an errant gust of the smoke that had blurred his vision – took this as his cue. He dropped to hands and knees and pulled himself across the prison yard toward Griftah and Miresha, wondering what, exactly, Griftah had done. Had he accidentally fallen under his own spell, or was he just acting?

More importantly, how were they going to get the last doses of antidote?

"Please, blessed queen," Griftah sang out without raising his head, "Please show us ya true glory!"

There was a tearing sound, and then as best as the bleary-eyed Jadaar could see, several things happened very quickly.

The prison guards all fell to the ground, prostrating themselves and chanting "Apok'rita! Apok'rita!" Griftah darted forward, snatching something up from the ground, throwing what sounded like a rock into the cauldron, then scrambling backward as a giant insect with huge parchment-like wings, a furred upper body, and an elongated, orange brown abdomen lifted in the air and hovered above the cauldron. Her stinger jerked and dripped with venom.

"Grab me leg!" Griftah shouted, standing to slip an arm under Asric's back and pull the unconscious elf against him. As Queen Apok'rita buzzed angrily in the smoke Griftah upended the mortar of powdered blue dragonpowder over the four of them ...

... and then, just like that, three of them were back at the Faire.

.

"What just happened?" Jadaar asked. They were in a wooded back area that he didn't recognize.

"All be clear in a bit," Griftah said, laying Asric across Jadaar's lap and handing Jadaar the shreds of Miresha's robe. "But firs' look see if the antidote be in a pocket like she said. Imma go get someone to cut dem irons off ya."

As Griftah ran off Jadaar searched though the rags, feeling and then finding a single vial. "No," he whispered. Two doses wouldn't be enough to cure Asric: by unknowingly drinking the first one, he had delivered a death sentence on his friend. Even so, knowing it wouldn't be enough, he still uncorked it and poured a dribble into Asric's mouth.

The elf didn't swallow. "Damn you, Redmourn," Jadaar muttered. "Must you be difficult to the very end?" He poured the remainder into his own mouth and administered a second antidote kiss, then sat, staring but unseeing, thinking of all the ridiculous things the elf had said and done in the past few days, wondering if what Griftah had said about Asric was true, wondering how he could have so completely missed the signs. "Idiot."

 

 

He was still holding Asric when Griftah returned with Silas, Burth, Yebb, Rinling, Chronos, and Apothecary Arlecchino.

"Wah, those are nasty!" Yebb said, crouching down and poking at Jadaar's shackles. "I've never seen this sort of metal before! Is it that saronite stuff?" he asked Rinling, who shrugged, "Well, we'll probably have to put Jadaar on the anvil and get Kerri to help chisel them off."

"Not yet," Jadaar said. "Did you find the antidote?"

Arlecchino held up a vial of yellowish liquid.

In response, Jadaar held up the empty vial, whose sides had faint smears of dark green. "Whatever he has can't be right," Jadaar said to Chronos. " _This_ is the actual antidote."

Arl made a contemptuous noise, then said a few words.

"He says," Chronos translated, "that he probably used alternate ingredients."

"He's not getting any of Asric's feet," Jadaar said firmly. " _Or_ his body."

Arl snarled, swept his cloak around himself, and disappeared.

.

Despite Jadaar's protests, Griftah and Chronos took Asric while Burth slung Jadaar over his shoulder and carried him to the anvil.

The gawkers on the midway seemed highly amused.

"There's really no point in doing this," Jadaar said calmly, watching as Burth held a chisel against the shackle-bolts and Kerri Hicks swung her two-handed mace. "I've only had a third of the antidote I need to be cured." He didn't add that he'd briefly held two more doses in his mouth.

"Well, it seems to have staved off the advance of the poison," Chronos said. "It may very well have been enough to cure you, if you didn't have as large an injection of poison as Mister Redmourn." He handed the antidote vial to Sylannia, who held the vial up to the light, then unstoppered and sniffed it cautiously.

"I'll see what I can do, " she said. "She does owe me a favor or two." She hurried off.

"Now what?" Jadaar asked. His ears were starting to ring from the clang of chisel on metal. "Is something going to come drag you off, or will you just disappear into the Twisting Nether?"

"What you mean?" Griftah asked.

"Aren't both oaths broken?"

"No," Griftah said. "We got three dose from Miresha, even if she didn't give the last one."

"I meant you," Jadaar said. "You didn't – "

"Hey mon, I _delivered_ all three mojo to her," Griftah said, spreading his arms. "Not me problem if she drop her travel amulet." He dug in his pocket, and pulled out the stone.

"How did you get that?" Jadaar asked, puzzled.

"Fell out when she went _aqir_ ," Griftah said. "I snatch it up wit' de dress."

"But she can still take her ship to go hunting new subjects," Jadaar said. "She'll captivate them and take them to her island!"

"Well now," Griftah said, "Funny … she did ask for mojo to make all who _see_ her gonna worship her."

"But that's what you gave her, right?" Jadaar asked.

Griftah nodded, grinning wickedly

"I don't understand why you're smiling, then," Jadaar said, wincing as the chisel finally broke the bolts on the first shackle.

"Well, detective," Griftah said, "here be ya clues. Cauldron was my big spell, makin' time smoke from de bronze molt. And blue dragon powder activate all mojo close by."

"You threw … _her_ _invisibility amulet_ in the time smoke," Jadaar said slowly, comprehension blooming. "So now she's – invisible all the time?"

"Ya," Griftah nodded. "Amber magic. Like tree sap trap."

"And if no one can _see_ her – "

"She be Queen ta no one. Serve her right, tryin' to twist up words to trick me an' me bodyguard."

.

It was the last hours of the Faire.

Asric, his cane nearby, sat next to Jadaar on the dock and fished. Griftah was at his barrel, calling out last minute deals.

_Fine Poking Stick! This no ORDINARY stick, no! What ya be seein' here be a stick of incredible rarity and extraordinary value, shaped by the very powers that wrought the world! Ya wanna own this fantastic piece of Draenor, touched by magnificent power, I know ya do. I be practically givin' em away!_

A Tauren rushed up to the barrel. "I need seven hulas!" she said.

"Special deal jes' for you," Griftah said, handing her a bag. As she ran off, Griftah chuckled and said to Jadaar, "Las' time I give her seven, she pay me for twelve. This time she pay me for seven, I _give_ her twelve!"

Two women walked by, a human with dark hair and a night elf with a long blue braid. Griftah motioned them over, then went to the wagon and pulled out a bouquet. "Terokkar lilacs," he said. "For you, no charge."

Jadaar saw the two walking to the Stormwind portal later: the night elf had lilac blooms tucked all along her braid.

A dark form bounded out of the night and jumped onto Griftah's barrel: a large cat wearing a glass pendant, with pale moon symbols curved along each shoulder. "I've been practicing," she said, head-butting Griftah affectionately, then leaping off the barrel and loping to the portals.

"Almos' closing time," Griftah said.

A towering pile of Darkmoon prizes came toward them down the midway: beneath it was Dargrim, the dwarf death knight. "Finally got the hang of it!" he said, then added in a low voice, "I'll be back after closin' ter talk to ya about that special mission."

"Okey-dokey," Griftah said.

"Special mission?" Asric asked, after the dwarf had gone into the Stormwind portal.

"Silas sending Dargrim in with a team to liberate any wantin' to leave Queen Island," Griftah said.

Michael Schweitzer thanked everyone for coming, invited them all to come back next month, and urged them to proceed to the exit portals. As the sky bloomed with fireworks, Steven and Tatia came by to collect the fish Asric and Jadaar had caught.

"Coming to the beach?" Tatia asked them. "Silas bought special refreshments for the closing party."

"They comin' in a bit," Griftah said. "Got some business to wrap here."

"Business?" Jadaar asked, watching Asric struggle slightly to stand up. The extra doses of antidote that Sylannia had created "with the help of a friend" had removed the toxins from their system, but Asric still had some recovering to do.

"Ya," Griftah said, going to his wagon. He returned with two small pouches that he handed to Asric and Jadaar. "Jes' somethin' ta thank ya," he said. "I know ya like a warm place away from crowds." He was about to say more, but was silenced by Trix, who tackled him, covered his face with kisses, and started unbuttoning his vest.

"I don't think he'll need guarding tonight," Jadaar said, opening the pouch and taking out a pendant.

"No, Trix is … she's formidable," Asric said. He held up his own pendant. "Well, shall we see where these take us?"

"After you, my friend," Jadaar said. "After you."

  _._

_._

_~ The end ~_

_._

_._

 

Author's notes and story ramblings in my [Dreamwidth](http://silverr.dreamwidth.org/23078.html) and [Livejournal](http://silverr.livejournal.com/93457.html).

.

(03) 14 Feb 2013

**Author's Note:**

> July 2014: The wonderful pencil drawings that appear throughout the story were done by [mipeltaja](http://mipeltaja-art.tumblr.com/). Please contact the artist for permission before using!
> 
> A thank you to **JackOfNone** for general Forsaken advice, and for allowing me to borrow the inimitable Apothecary Arlecchino.  
>  \- - - - - - - -  
> Genesis: The story started out as just a little throw-away drabbley Yuletide treat for kitsunealyc, but the more I poked around the Faire the more plotty possibilities suggested. 
> 
> I do hope that one of the themes that came across in this story is that the DMF, (like Blackwind Landing and Quel'Danas), has always been one of the few places in the WoW Universe where the factions not only exist harmoniously, but work together. As an old hippie, I still cherish that "peace, love and understanding" thing quite a lot. A secondary theme was that—the opinions of bitter defensive narcissists notwithstanding—kind, decent, altruistic people do exist.
> 
> Griftah's dialect… Oi, did I churn over how to handle Troll. ~ In game, of course, the accents are written out, ( i.e., the "Speech" section of wowwiki's How to Roleplay a Troll) but I didn't necessarily want to transpose everything into dis, dat, dem, and dose. I did specifically tailor what Griftah was saying from time to time to avoid "th" words, but he's not a laconic Troll, by any means. ~ Over the period of the 5 months it's taken me to write this I know Griftah's speech has slid all over the place, but in my defense, in studying the quest text of various Troll NPCs, I also noticed that Blizzard's troll speech patterns aren't consistent either. ~ I might go through the story at some point and tighten it all up, but for now he's mostly "the guy with the colorful idioms (most of which I did make up; a few were adapted from a Rasta/patois compilation of proverbs. I also borrowed his cadence from Kendra in Season 2 of Buffy. :p
> 
> My reference for poison darts was http://www.blowgunsnw.com/navigate.htm
> 
> Apok'rita / Miresha is totally invented, but not entirely off-base, I don't think. Nerubians = spiders, Qiraji = beetles,"Third race"= Apocritia, the superfamily of wasp/bees. 
> 
> All the "magical" stuff that Griftah does is made up, but based loosely on wikipedia's 'Mojo' entry.
> 
> Death Queen Island: Saint Seiya fans will recognize this as the hellish place Phoenix Ikki trained.
> 
> 2015 addition: When I wrote the story the cave I had in mind for the boys to wind up in at the end is the one that's now been taken over by the Erinys, but I'm confident that there are others that a non-DMF employee like myself doesn't know about.


End file.
